Dirtbag
by snuggled
Summary: What began as a good day spiraled into a giant mess that would change the Marsh siblings' lives forever--Stan and Shelley learn who they truly care for and how family is more important than anything else. Warnings: language, boy-love and cat-fights.
1. Guitar

I don't know why, but I think Shelley's a pretty fun character. Probably because she's such a bitch. So here's a fic centered around her. The premise of this fic is loosely based on a song by Wheatus called "Teenage Dirtbag". Because I've lately become obsessed with music, this fic will mention a lot of different music by different bands. I hope some of you enjoy that. I know I did. Along with my other interests for writing fanfics, there's also the pop-culture issue (shown through the heavy music references in this certain fic) and the issue of social classes and crap. I included a bunch of that in this, too. I use the F-word a bit much in this fic because Shelley is a crass person, and therefore will curse more often.

**Characters involved** are:  
_Stan, Shelley, Kyle, Cartman, Kenny, Kevin, the Tall Goth (whom I've decided to just call Nicholas), Henrietta, Wendy, and various others._

The** pairings** of this fic include:  
_Nicholas/Shelley, Henrietta/Stan, Wendy/Stan, Stan/Kyle and more. I'll get there when I get there._

With that said, enjoy the fic.

* * *

**"Guitar"**  
_Chapter One_

Waking up in the morning was always a pain. It was even more of a pain when Shelley finally woke up enough to realize it was a weekday and she had to go to school. And, on top of that, she had to put up with her brother pitching a whiny-ass hissy-fit every morning when their mother would wake him up.

Honestly–why was she still waking him up when he was almost in high school? He had one more semester to go and then he'd be a freshman after summer break. He needed to learn to stop being such a pussy.

Even now she could hear him moaning. "But, Moooommm…It's too _early_… Give me another five minutes…"

"Stanley! I gave you five minutes twenty minutes ago! It's time to get up!"

"Come _ooonnn_…"

Shelley stomped into the room and stared him up and down. He just blinked dumbly, not realizing the urgency of the situation…or the fact that his sister was garbed only in a bra and boy-cut panties.

"Listen up, turd! You're going to stop whining and **wake up**!! You hear me!?"

Stan's eyes widened and he sat up almost immediately. "A-Alright, sis!" He jumped out of bed and made it up in a hurry. Satisfied, both Shelley and their mother left the room. She glanced back at him and sneered, pulling on her bra strap and snapping it against her collar bone.

"Good. And don't make me come back in there and kick your ass."

He shut the door in a hurry and got busy changing. Shelley just walked back into her room and put on a Prince CD, singing and dancing to "Guitar" as she dressed for school. That always woke her up.

Hot pink high tops. Zebra-print leggings. Brown shorts. Black long-sleeved shirt. White hoodie. Glossed lips. Mussed brown hair pulled into a ponytail on the side of her head, below her left ear. Black mascara making her eyelashes and blue eyes pop.

As she checked herself in the mirror, she flipped CD's. Iron Maiden this time. She grinned into the mirror, flashing a smile at her glass counterpart.

"I look _good_. Today's going to be a good day for me."

She smiled and fell onto her bed, listening to the best band of _all_ time. A feeble knock on the door soured her up real quick. She glared, standing up and storming to the door. When she opened the door, she met her brother staring at the floor.

"What _is_ it, turd?"

He looked up, looked away, turned a bit red. "Y-You look nice today, sis."

She narrowed her eyes. "Don't try to get me in a good mood by saying that. You _ruined_ the precious few moments of bliss I have in the morning before I have to drive you and your loser friends to school. And for that, you're going to have to listen to _my_ music in the car this time. None of that stupid shit your little best friend listens to. Coldplay is for gay guys and chicks who have soft hearts."

Stan groaned. "Awww! But Mom said–"

"Mom didn't say anything about you ruining my quiet time, did she!? She didn't say that I could give you consequences for ruining it! Therefore, all of you have to listen to what _I_ want to listen to!"

Stan groaned and grumbled. "I can't help it if Kyle wants to listen to Coldplay…"

"Yes you can! You can tell him to stop being gay!"

Stan turned red with zealous anger. "He's not gay!"

Shelley just rolled her eyes. "Oh? And I suppose that makes you straight, too?"

Stan glared. "Yes, yes it does! Because we're both straight! And so is Kenny, and…well, I'm not sure about Cartman…but yeah! Me and Kyle are straight!"

Shelley just rolled her eyes. "Yeah, fatass is straight, too, I get it. Now come on. If any of your shitty friends are late getting ready I'm going to give you a thrashing when I pick you up from school today."

Stan groaned and headed down the steps. "Again…?"

––––––––––––––––––––––

Since Kenny lived _right_ next to Stan on the other side of the train tracks, he was always picked up first. This was especially helpful since he almost _never_ had anything else to wear, so he got dressed fairly quickly. Usually he showed up at the door right as they were leaving. Such was the case today.

Kenny hopped in the back seat, grinning madly, and took his place next to Stan. Cartman, as a rule, was shotgun, simply because he wouldn't fit in the back of her car with two other boys crammed in beside him. Shelley's car was a seven-seater, if they counted the hood or the trunk as a seat, which _she_ certainly did.

She popped in the Iron Maiden CD and Kenny gave a loud, "Whoohoo!" She turned and glared, but he turned to Stan. "Shit, this is better than that gay crap Kyle listens to, huh? And it beats Cartman's taste. If I hear "Come Sail Away" or "Purple Rain" one more time I just might kill myself…again."

Stan smiled weakly, glancing off towards Kyle's house. Coldplay may not have been as good as Fall Out Boy, but it was better than _Iron Maiden_. His sister's taste in music was probably _the_ worst thing in the world.

"Hey, Shelley, I see you're listening to Iron Maiden. That's pretty kickass."

Shelley ground her teeth and looked at the ass crouched by the window. She gave him the finger. "Go to hell, Kevin!" Kenny rolled down the window and Shelley pinched the bridge of her nose in unison with her brother.

Kenny, completely unaware, grinned madly and pointed at her seat. "I know! And she looks fucking hot today, too!" Kevin laughed and gave his little brother a thumbs-up.

Shelley glanced back at her brother, locking eyes with him. She pulled her hand over her chest, signaling for him to buckle his seatbelt before he went flying through the windshield. He winced and buckled it, knowing there wasn't even a seat to stop him, since he was in the middle of the back.

Kenny burst out laughing with his brother and Shelly jerked it into reverse, stomping on the gas pedal. The car went squealing backwards, out of the driveway. She jerked it into drive and straightened herself out on the street, squealing past the houses and away from the damned McCormick house.

Kenny, having forgotten to put his seatbelt on, was thrown into the seat in front of him and then thrown into the door beside him, which was, unfortunately, not closed all the way. The poor bastard didn't even have a chance to make a sound before falling out of the car and slamming his face into asphalt at a high speed.

Shelley gave a loud scream, _knowing_ it had been a bad idea to leave the house after her brother had interrupted her moment of bliss, breaking the good luck she would be having today for looking so good.

–––––––––––––––

Kyle's wasn't much better. He seemed to be at least ten minutes late today, and Stan had to go running into the house to check and see that he wasn't sick that day. Then, when they both got into the back seat, Kyle couldn't seem to take no for an answer.

"So _just_ because Stan happened to compliment how nice you look today, you refuse to let me play my CD? I can't believe we have to listen to this shit because Stan was being _nice_ to you!"

Stan patted his friend's shoulder. "Dude, just…let it be. I'm already going to get a thrashing today since you were so late. Please don't make it any worse…"

Kyle scoffed. "What!? She's _still_ beating you up!? That's fucking messed up, dude!" He turned to the driver's seat in front of him and kicked the back cushion. "Hey, Shelley! He's your brother! Siblings are supposed to take care of each other! What's your fucking problem, you stupid bitch!?"

Shelley's fingers clenched the steering wheel and she looked in the back mirror. There would be no throwing him out of the car–his seatbelt was buckled and the door was locked.

Stan looked over at his friend worriedly, smiling a little and laughing. "Come on, dude… You're distracting her…"

Kyle ignored him and reached over the seat, flicking her hair. "Hey! Are you listening to me!? Stop beating up on Stan! He doesn't deserve your shit day in and day out!"

Shelley clenched her teeth and ground her molars together, beginning to breathe heavily. She was fairly close to the Cartman house. Kyle always directed his anger towards the fatass, so if she could just–

"Hey! I'm talking to you!"

Kyle yanked on her pigtail, causing her to stomp on the brake.

She screeched and they all jerked forward, only stopped by their seatbelts. Shelley seethed and seethed as Kyle grew very, _very_ quiet. After a moment she opened up the door and unbuckled her seatbelt.

As she stormed out, her hand reached for the back car door, where Kyle was. She threw it open and both boys could swear the sound barrier broke when she started yelling.

"**Get the fuck out of my car, you fucking shitheads! You might as well fucking walk to school!!!"**

Stan unbuckled his seatbelt, swearing loudly and pushing at Kyle in an attempt to get out of the car. Kyle struggled for a bit, getting tangled up in his own seatbelt and book bag, before finally falling out of the car. Stan fell on top of him, but soon both of them scrambled up to their feet and dashed to the sidewalk.

Shelley slammed the door shut and sank back into the driver's seat, nearly closing the door on her fingers.

Kyle stomped his foot on the ground. "Shit, dude! You didn't tell me your sister could do that!!"

Stan had to practically scream into his friend's ear to be heard over the screeching of her tires. "Are you kidding!? My sister can do whatever she fucking wants!!!"

––––––––––––––––––––

Shelley laughed wryly as she neared the Cartman house–there was Eric, all ready for school and sitting on the curb, waiting for her to pick him up. Of course, he had no idea his friends had pissed her the hell off enough to throw them out, so she really had no need to pick him up.

He struggled to his feet as she drove by, but something made her slam on the brakes. He went to the door and looked at the backseat, noting it was empty. As he climbed into the front seat, the weight shifted. Usually Kyle and Stan were able to balance it out somewhat, with Kenny being behind him and two heavier boys over on her side–and the middle–but no one was in the back to balance it out today.

He blinked and put his seat belt on, tossing his bag in the back, behind her seat. "Where the hell's your brother? And the other two…"

Shelley grimaced. "Shut up and stay quiet. The redheaded-bitch decided to yank on my hair while I was driving so I threw them out."

"Oh? Why not just Kahl?"

"Stan was pissing me off this morning and the other kid fell out of the car when I pulled out of the driveway and I couldn't feel bothered to go back for him." She began driving and he reached into the glove compartment for her CD case, seeing as they had roughly the same taste in music.

"Can I change the CD?"

She glanced at him and lifted her hand. She was very, very weary and just wanted some time to think, and she usually tuned out the music when she was driving. "Why not? Just _shut up_ and let me drive, turd."

After some shuffling, the song "Guitar" started playing. She smiled a little and relaxed. "You like this song, too?"

Cartman nodded, though she wasn't looking over to see it. She glanced at him and he nodded again. She turned her eyes back to the road and grunted a little. "You can say yes or no if I ask you a question first."

"O-Okay…"

She narrowed her eyes and glanced at him. "Usually you're more independent than this. Why are you being so obedient?"

"… …Yes."

She rolled her eyes and chuckled. "You can talk somewhat, just don't speak unless I ask you something. Now why the hell are you being so obedient?"

Cartman made a funny sound with his lips and teeth. "Tch. I'm not walking all the way to school!"

Shelley smiled. "Heh. You're a bit more tolerable than those other turds…even if you're one of them."

Cartman changed the song and glanced at her coolly. "I recall you said something like that when you babysat me years ago…"

Shelley turned to him and raised a brow. "How the hell do you remember shit like that? That was, like, aggravating."

He shrugged. "I dunno. I thought it was pretty fun… I enjoyed it a little."

She turned her eyes back to the road and flipped the song to something else to keep from blushing. Of course, she thought it was pretty fun, too. And even though he was four years younger, she had always had a soft spot for the fatass, though she'd never admit it.

The second they approached the middle school, he hopped out of the car, causing the weight to shift again, and walked over to the other side to get his bag.

He grabbed the bag and closed the door, knocking on her window before she could drive off. She rolled it down and stared at him with a dull look. She needed to get to school. He tapped the top of the car. "You look nice today, Shelley."

She stared at him, cheeks turning pink. "Th-Thanks…"

Cartman, however, just shrugged and walked away as if it was nothing. "Anytime, ho."


	2. Stiff Kittens

This is a fun chapter. If you read my other fic, Mr. Brightside, you'd know how much of a soft spot I have for the Goth Kids and gothic subculture in general. I enjoyed this one because it includes a lot of that, and I think the dialogue between Shelley and Nicholas (the Tall Goth) is entertaining because of their personalities. This chapter is a bit short, so I apologize for that.

The title of this chapter is based off of a song by Blaqk Audio. They're hardcore goth, mainly because they have that old-goth sound I love so much. Check them out.

Enjoy this chapter, even if it's short.

* * *

**"Stiff Kittens"  
**_Chapter Two_

Getting to school wasn't much better. She sat in front of the middle school for a good twenty minutes in a stupor before she remembered she was already a few minutes late to begin with. By the time she got there, the school bell had rung and the parking lot was practically filled.

She did manage to find a parking space next to a black Cadillac that could only belong to one of the Goth kids, considering the inside looked like a train wreck and littered with papers scribbled with random lines of poetry. She couldn't remember which one, but she knew one of them was a freshman, having started school late at the age of four and skipped a grade in middle school.

She got out of the car and stared at the inside before she burst out laughing. She composed herself and looked up at the sky. "What a fucking dumbass. 'Ooooh, my life is pain; I wish I were dead.'" She snorted and burst out laughing again.

"Did you just snort?"

She stopped and looked over to see a kid with curly black hair leaning against the car and taking a drag from his cigarette.

She paused, blinking and narrowing her eyes. "So what if I did? What the fuck are you doing at your car? Get to class."

He took another drag and shrugged. "Why should I go to class? After all, I _wish I were dead_. _Ooooh, the pain. The pain of my horrible life_…" He waved his hands around mystically and sneered at her.

She chuckled. "Nice to see you kids have a sense of humor. Seriously, fishie, get to class before I–"

"Before you what? Tell the Vice Principal? Ooooh, I'm _so_ scared. An authority figure to tell me how to live my life. What_ever_ shall I do?"

She sneered and took a step toward the car. "Ex_cuse_ me? I was _going_ to say before I fucking dent your car, dumbshit."

He shrugged again. "Oh. I'll just file charges. Use the system to its full potential, I guess…" He took another drag and shifted his weight off the car. "Nice try, though."

She glared at him and swallowed the string of curses she wanted to desperately scream at him. What the fuck would get to this kid!? It was like he didn't care about _anything_! She wracked her brain, searching for something. As he was walking toward the school, she took another peek in the car.

A few random CD's, one of them labeled Mantaray. Who did that one again? She was some Goth singer or something… What band was she– Aha!

She put her hand next to her mouth to let the sound carry to where he was walking. "Siouxsie's an old fat whore, you stupid faggy Goth shit!"

He turned around and clenched his fist, nearly crushing his cigarette. He stepped toward her and when he was within arm's reach, he pointed right at her face, using one of the bad manners his mother told him not to imitate. "Who the _fuck_ do you think you are?"

She just grabbed the cigarette from him, took a drag from it herself and exhaled a smoke ring into his face as she leaned over, causing him to clear his throat. "Shelley Marsh. You gonna kick my ass? I'd like to see you try."

His eyes widened before they narrowed again in concentration. After a moment he smiled all-too-innocently, motioning towards his car with his hand. "Why don't you try listening to her before you go spouting out random shit."

He walked over and unlocked the car, sliding into the driver's seat and leaning over to unlock the door. Shelley just opened her mouth, gaping at the nerve of this kid. He was… He was…

He was fucking crazy–that was for sure.

She opened the door and sat down, narrowing her eyes and glaring at him. She had _no_ idea why she was going along with this. She was never one for listening to other people, and she was never one for taking lip from some Goth fishie hooligan, but she _was_ listening to what he had to say. Oddly enough.

She _really_ didn't want to go to school today, apparently.

He looked her up and down, sized up what kind of music she would like and put the Mantaray CD in, setting it to track two. Shelley sat back, flicking the cigarette onto the school parking lot, and listened for a while, finally letting a smile grace her face. "Hmmm, I guess I've learned my lesson. What is _your_ name, little fishie?"

"Nicholas."

He lit up another cigarette and inhaled deeply, letting out a few puffs of smoke. She chuckled, raising her eyebrows. "I may smoke, but I'm no smokestack. I think I'll get out and head on to class for some serious bitching from my teacher…" As she shifted out of the car, he grabbed her wrist.

"Wait."

Shelley turned around giving him the finger. "This was a lovely chat, but I try to make a habit of staying away from whiny-ass fags like my brother."

"Stan, right? Your brother's name is Stan. I know him; He's in an on-and-off relationship with a chick named Wendy. He's a fucking pussy; I'm nothing like that shithead."

Shelley stopped, raising her eyebrows and pulling her arm away from the Goth. "Oh? And what about him? You have a problem with him–because I can totally kick his ass for you."

"Yes, I do. But I'd rather have the satisfaction of screwing up his life. Are you willing to help?"

Shelley glanced up for a moment, blocking out the music that was starting to get irritatingly sinister. "F-Fine. Just turn that damn music off."

Nicholas flipped the switch on the CD player and smiled. "Alright then, why don't you just meet me back at my car after school and we can…make an arrangement…"

She sneered and stepped out of the car. "Whatever, loser. But don't think I'm doing this to be nice to some fag like you." She slammed the door, stormed off and glanced back, noting he'd gotten out and was leaning against it again, smoking.

"_Typical Goth_," she mused to herself angrily.

"By the way–nice ass, bitch."

She turned around and glared at the wicked smirk on his face, flipping him off. "Oh, like I really _care_ what a fucking fish like you thinks!" However, as she stepped up the steps to the back entrance, she shifted her bag over her ass, cheeks heating up and eyes glaring at the floor indignantly.

Stupid fish were always trying to get what they couldn't have.


	3. Wasted Years

Hope this chapter makes up for the length of the previous one. This was a pretty fun chapter, too. I like the idea of Shelley having the same "problem" that her brother used to have as a kid. Heh heh.

I've noticed a lot of people like to make Shelley in to punk rock, but I don't really see her being _too_ into that. Maybe it's just me, or maybe it's the fact she liked Britney Spears in the show, but I could see her liking pop and stuff. Iron Maiden's for the sake of this fic, but I really could see her liking stuff like Prince and The Bangles. Another band (I know, Prince isn't a band.) I could see her liking would be Say Anything. That has more of a punk rock feel to it, but a more modern punk rock feel. Thus, it sounds sort of pop-ish. Oh, and don't even get me _started_ on Tea Party. Their most popular song right now is Stargazer, but a lot of their older works are _amazing_. I suggest you check them out, too, but I'm afraid to start rambling here.

Before I leave you all to read it, I'd like to say that the title of this one comes from an Iron Maiden song. Perfect for Kevin, in my opinion. The song's chorus pertains to the same sort of thing between Shelley and Kevin. The chorus goes like this:  
"_So understand,  
Don't waste your time always searching for those wasted years,  
Face up...make your stand,  
And realise you're living in the golden years._"  
You all might not see it the same way I see it, so for me to help you understand why I think the song fits, I'll give you my interpretation. To me, the song evokes, rather than tells, a story. Yeah, the lyrics and music fit together for me. Without one or the other, I'd probably get a different feeling from it. It sort of makes me think of my own childhood, and how I used to be a major brat. I often dwell on the past, which is unhealthy, but when I do, I usually wish that some of the friends I made were still my friends, and I always wonder if they would be if I had said something different or the like. So there's my interpretation. It sucks, I know.

So, enjoy this chapter.

* * *

**"Wasted Years"  
**_Chapter Three_

First period passed without incident, with the exception of the serious talking-to she received from the teacher. She ended up having a warning, and because she had received many other warnings, the punishment was decided that she would just have to sit in the cafeteria during their class that day, with all the other students who tried to raise hell with tardies.

And, lo and behold, who should she find in the cafeteria but that damn McCormick boy?

"Hey, Shell."

She sneered at Kevin and gave him the finger, dropping her bag at a table as far from him as possible. Of course, that didn't hinder his advances and soon he was sitting right in front of her, twiddling his thumbs and glancing around.

She sighed and pulled out her iPod, setting it to Iron Maiden and popping the headphones in. If she couldn't get away from him physically, surely she could block him out with loud music.

His voice became muffled to the point of incoherency and she smiled blissfully to herself, dropping her head to the table in an attempt to not look at him.

_Yank._

If she could just ignore it. If she could just ignore it and continue listening to the Piece of Mind album. If she could just ignore it and listen to The Trooper… If she could just–

_Yank._

Her head shot up and she glared at him, ripping out the headphones. "What the fuck is your problem, Kevin!? I've told you for _how_ many years to leave me alone!? When are you going to finally get it through your head–I fucking hate the ground you walk on! You're a fucking parasite!"

He grinned and she noticed he was missing a few teeth. She gave him a disgusted look and leaned away from him. "Wh-What the hell, you fucking hick? You're losing your teeth now, too? I think I'm going to barf…" She turned slightly pale and held her mouth. If there was one thing she inherited along with her brother, it was a weak stomach.

He laughed and grabbed one of her headphones, putting it in his ear, and she cringed, hoping he'd taken a bath in the last week at least. He waved his hand a little. "Nah, Dad just pushed me into a table when he came in from the bar last night."

She frowned, sighing. "Do you have to act so goddamn carefree when you say shit like that? That's not something most people would laugh about…"

He laughed and began head-banging, pausing every once in a while to speak. "…Then again…I'm not…a…normal person…Shell…"

She sneered and reached into her bag for the Mentos she kept around for after lunch. "Stop calling me that. I've been telling you not to call me that for years now. I'm not your friend, and I'm not someone who would gladly befriend you. So just piss off and leave me alone."

She handed him the entire roll of Mentos and he popped three in his mouth, much to her approval. With breath like that, it would take at least five to make it smelling pretty. Three at least made it _bearable_.

He smirked as the song ended and he stopped head-banging. "For someone who isn't your friend, you sure are being nice to me–after all, you're letting me sit with you, you let me listen to your music, you shared some mints you have, _and_ we can't forget the most crucial point."

She sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose, groaning. "Fine, turd… What is the last point?"

He pointed at her, grinning like a maniac. "You haven't moved away from me."

She grimaced and looked at her bags, longing to grab her iPod and get the hell away from him like he suggested. It would be pointless to encourage him like this, after all.

"…I–I don't get it…"

She glanced back at him, instantly concerned–as much as she hated to admit–by the sadness in his voice. He sighed, playing with the cord of one of the headphones, which was now out of his ear. He had his face propped up by one hand and he was frowning a little.

"We _used_ to be friends, right? So…why aren't we friends anymore?"

She frowned and gathered up her bags, eyeing the door. "It _your_ fault we aren't, Kevin. _You_ were the one that ended up deciding we were going out when we _clearly_ weren't. I'm not going to fucking befriend someone who claims I'm his fucking girlfriend. You fucked up, and for that I have no fucking respect for some maggot like you. I mean _seriously_–did you _actually_ think we were? That's a bit messed up, don't you think?"

He grinned a little, more strained this time. "Well, I _am_ messed up, so that counts for something, right?"

She sighed, standing up and shaking her head. "No, it doesn't. It's not healthy to befriend people like you who have no idea of relationships and boundaries." She stomped toward the door until she heard him stand up.

"Shell, wai–"

She turned around, giving him the finger. "Leave me the **fuck** alone, Kevin! And I hope to _God_ you finally get a fucking clue this time!" She stormed out, ignoring the looks people were giving her.

–––––––––––––––––

She stormed out to her car and turned the key in the ignition, glancing at the clock. There were twenty more minutes left until she needed to get back to her second period class. One glance over at the Cadillac beside her told her the Goth was _still_ there.

He was also staring at her, and that pissed her off.

She gave him the finger and he just shrugged, looking away.

After a while she stood up and walked over to his car, leaning on it, across from him. "Say, fis–_Nicholas_–you got a moment to listen to me bitch about something that's pissing me off?"

He stared at her dully. "Oh? I suppose you think I'll listen to anyone's pain because I'm a Goth, right?"

"Fuck yes I do, now are you willing to listen or not?"

He took a drag from his cigarette and shrugged his shoulders, tapping on it and causing some ashes to fall on the ground. "I guess I should, then, since I _must_ meet your stereotypical expectations…punk-ass bitch."

He leaned over, staring back at her over the top of the car. She rolled her eyes and opened the door, which was still locked. He raised his eyebrows in surprise and opened the driver's seat door, sliding in.

Her hand shot into her bag and she pulled out a lighter and a cigarette, lighting up. "Okay, so there's this fuckhead…" She took a drag and blew the smoke towards the open door. "And when we were kids, we were fairly good friends…somewhat."

The Goth just stared at the window boredly, rolling his eyes. "Oh…the childhood friend cliché? How _terrible_ for you…"

"I'm not fucking done, asshole." She took another drag and picked up one of his CD's, blowing smoke right on it to piss him off and teach him a lesson not to interrupt.

"Anyway, this shitbag got it into his head that since I was hanging out with him and being his friend, that made me his girlfriend. So he went around telling people that we were going out."

Surprisingly, Nicholas actually raised his eyebrows with interest. "What a douche bag. Was he desperate or something?"

"It's Kevin McCormick."

"Oh. Related to that Kenny kid, right? Douche."

"I know, right? Anyways, so when I found out he believed we were going out, I figured he obviously had something wrong with his head, so I stopped being his friend. Now he still comes over and tries to be my friend. Just a while ago, he started talking to me in the cafeteria–since I was kicked out of class for being tardy and all–and was _still_ trying it."

"Do you always get_ this_ pissed off because he tries being buddy-buddy with you? What makes today any different?"

"Because he asked me_ why_! He _never_ asks me why! Who the fuck does he think he is!? The king of the world or some shit like that!? Do I _need_ a reason!?"

Nicholas took a drag and shrugged. "Well, maybe now that he knows why he'll back off. I don't see what the big deal is. It sounds like you're holding up against him and shit."

Shelley nodded and glanced at him. "Yeah, thanks for listening to my anger."

He smiled slyly. "I'm a Goth. I thrive off of suffering and anger, remember?"

Shelley laughed and took another drag, blowing the smoke back out the door. "Well then, every Goth kid and their moms could feed off me for a year at least. I'm a fucking rage _machine_…"

He grinned and popped in a CD, settling back. When she didn't say anything he nodded his head and glanced at her. "I suppose we won't be speaking anymore, then?"

She nodded irritably and glared at the CD player. "What the fuck is this shit? It sounds like a bunch of fucking lead pipes scratching against glass."

"It's Skinny Puppy's version of Tainted Love. A friend let me borrow the CD because she thought I'd like it since it's Tainted Love. I'm not partial to it, but I think it fits your angry mood… Just shut up and enjoy. I'd prefer not to associate with _you_ too much, either."

For the next sixteen minutes they sat there in silence, listening to Skinny Puppy and smoking. When the bell rang she got out of his car and stamped her cigarette out, walking over to turn her car off and get her bags. When she started for the building, she realized he was already on his way. So, he was cutting first period for some reason.

She smiled, chuckling lightly at the thought that it was something like Home Ec.

–––––––––––––––––––

Her classes weren't much better, although she got a lot of comments on how good she looked, which wasn't _nearly_ as enjoyable as she would've liked to disillusion herself to believe. It was downright annoying. By the time lunch came around she was downright pissed off again.

Her stomach did a flip-flop and she ran to the bathroom when she caught sight of Kevin sitting at the empty table, close to the line for food, where she usually sat at since she couldn't be bothered with friends. She had an unscheduled appointment with the porcelain god and vomited out her breakfast from that morning.

As she wiped off the spittle from her mouth she could only guess how he found out where she sat. Or, maybe he'd known all along. He _did_ hang out with those shitbags on the other side of the lunchroom–the ones that also lived across the train tracks.

Well, shit.

She walked out of the bathroom and got in line for lunch, glancing over at him every once in a while. There had to be _somewhere_ she could sit to avoid him. But where? Her gaze drifted to the table next to it, all the way the farthest from the line. Goddamn!

There was the Goth kid, idly sipping at some soup he brought in a thermos.

She grabbed her lunch and paid for it, getting the hell over there and tossing her bags down at the seat next to him as fast as possible. His eyes lifted and he frowned when he saw who it was. She grimaced, pointing at her table. "Shithead's there."

He rolled his eyes and stared at his bowl of soup, ignoring her as best as he could. She glanced over and saw that Kevin was walking over to them, smiling widely. She groaned and Nicholas looked up to see what the problem was. He glared at her.

"What the fuck is your problem? You didn't have to bring him over _here_."

She glared at Kevin, muttering through clenched teeth at Nicholas, "I. Didn't."

Kevin sat down and plopped her iPod down in front of her. "I was trying to tell you earlier, but you yelled and stormed off…"

She glared at him. "Don't think this makes us friends, asshole."

He frowned. "Come _on_. Why _can't_ we be friends? I mean, when I heard Iron Maiden playing from your car this morning, I thought I'd have a better chance this time. That's why we became friends in the first place, remember?"

Nicholas chuckled, nearly choking on his soup, and the two brunettes both glared at him. Kevin looked indignant. "You have a problem, asswipe?"

The Goth shook his head and turned to Shelley, smiling complacently. "Nothing, it's just I didn't know you liked Iron Maiden, babe." Shelley raised a brow and shot him a dirty look.

Kevin stood up, leaving the iPod on the table. "Oh…? S-Sorry. Didn't know you two were dating… I guess I'll leave you guys alone, then…"

He stepped away, walking a bit more quickly than usual, face red. Shelley turned to Nicholas and glared. "You didn't have to act like we were dating, you shithead!"

The Goth shrugged and took a sip from his soup. "Why not? It worked, didn't it?"

"W-Well yeah, but…"

He rolled his eyes. "This is the part where you _thank_ my quick thinking, bitch."

She turned red and glared down at her food, stabbing her chicken with a fork. "Th-Thanks."

The Goth perked up a little, pouring a little bit more soup into the Styrofoam bowl in front of him. "God, _Iron Maiden_? I'm almost afraid to ask what your brother likes…" He took a big gulp, eyeing her with scheming eyes.

Shelley sneered, speaking between bites, since she couldn't be bothered with manners at the moment, being as pissed off as she was. "It should be obvious, shouldn't it? He likes shitty bands like Fall Out Fag and Jimmy Eat Cock."

The Goth snorted, spewing his soup all over the table before he burst out laughing. Shelley leaned back, raising her eyebrows and staring at him. "Wow…I was not aware Goths were capable of laughter."

"Ha ha ha, Jimmy Eat_ Cock_? I've never heard someone express how faggy it is like that."

Shelley shrugged. "I didn't think it was that original, myself. It sounds pretty fucking obvious to me. Maybe you need more eclectic friends."

Nicholas waved his hand and shook his head. "Well, either way, it's safe to say your brother is a closet homo."

Shelley sneered, looking at him as if he were stupid. "First of all, I already knew that. Second of all, his music preferences shouldn't reflect his sexual orientation. He also likes a few Styx songs, and they were _so_ not queens. But yeah, I agree with you there. He's a closet homo, and it's about time he woke up and smelled the fucking testosterone."

Nicholas sneered. "You know, for someone as much of a bitch as you, you really have a few good points when it comes to acceptance of other people. Are you sure you aren't just sticking up for him because he's your brother?"

"Uh, _yeah_. He's my brother, he's _my_ punching bag. He's only allowed to take shit like that from me."

"But you agreed you'd help me torment him."

"What do you _have_ against my brother, anyway?"

Nicholas sneered and took a big gulp of soup, or what was left of it, before he looked back at her. "Do I _need_ a reason? And even if I did, why should I tell you? He's your fucking _brother_. I should have a more valid reason to hate him than you do to begin with."

"_You_ try living with him! All he does is bitch and whine about that bitch of a girlfriend of his! Sometimes I wish he'd actually date that little Jewish assfuck so that he wouldn't talk about his relationship problems at breakfast, lunch and dinner! God, even my _parents_ give him relationship advice! It's sickening!"

Nicholas pondered over this for a moment and smiled. "Well, he'd be in mental torment if he thought he was in love with his best friend, so why don't we try that approach? You know him more than I do. If you can get a few pictures of the redhead and give them to me, I can easily edit them so it looks like he's in drag…and if your brother figures out the photos are edited from other pictures, then it still proves he looks at the originals way more often than he should…"

Shelley stared at him for a moment before her mouth dropped. "That's not a bad idea…"

The Goth rolled his eyes. "There's a _reason_ I skipped a grade. I'm fucking smart."

Shelley smiled, pointing at him with her fork. "Alright, I'll get you those pictures… I'll get one that my brother keeps in his room, and I'll take a few candid shots of his friend while they're outside or something. But the pictures better look professional. I don't want it to be freakin' obvious…"

Nicholas winked. "Trust me; you won't be able to tell the difference between them and the fake ones."

The bell rang and Shelley stared at him as he got up and left, waving idly to her as he walked away, and tried to calm the queasiness in her stomach. "Dammit. There must be a stomach flu or something. I don't usually get this sick to my stomach…" She grumbled to herself.

"By the way–!"

A hand slammed down on the table next to her and she retched, emptying her stomach.

"Ah, shit! Are you okay, Shell??"

She glared up at Kevin, wiping the vomit off her mouth as others tried to avoid the table as much as possible. "You asshole! Don't scare me like that! I thought you were–"

"Your boyfriend?"

Shelley found herself swallowing more vomit, so she stood back up. "Y-Yeah, whatever… I–I need to go to the nurse…"

"Y-You need help? You look like you're going to–"

Shelley took a defiant step, shaking her head, and found her knees buckling underneath her. "Ah, shit!" As she fell, she found Kevin catching her.

He smiled at her and snickered. "You need help, Shell. Guess I'll have to help you this time. Too bad your boyfriend wasn't here…"

She found herself vomiting again at the mere thought before she fainted.


	4. Temptation

I got a review for this. Huzzah! It seems there's hope for all the Shelley fans out there. How few there are...

Yeah, I used to be severely afraid of reviewing when I first started writing up my own crap and reading other things.Really, the whole commenting on stories still eludes me to this day.  
"What will I say?"  
"I don't sound too fan-girlish, do I?"  
"I sound like an idiot. Why on earth am I commenting? What's the point? They know people like their stories..."  
All of these thoughts would run through my head, and I ended up not doing anything about it. However, when I was writing The Locked Door (Death Note), I got many comments that pretty much said one thing: "I love how you make the characters interact with each other, and it has touched me." After that, I realized that the most appealing thing about being a writer, to me, is making people get lost in a story and actually be emotionally touched by it. I love it. Just the feeling that stories can touch me so much makes me happy, and I think it's an honor to be able to make other people feel like that. And after that, I realized how important it is to review, because we writers like feedback. Even the flames are nice.

In short, all the writers on this site enjoy getting reviews; so when you see something you like (or hate, even), review it.

Well, the title of this fic is named after a song by Tea Party. (Yes, the band I was gushing about in the previous chapter.) So I was _very _happy to put it as a title. (As you could probably tell, I really like that band.)

* * *

**"Temptation"**  
_Chapter Four _

When she woke up, she found herself in the nurse's office. Thankfully, that asshole Kevin was nowhere in sight. She sat up, feeling better than ever. The nurse walked in, strutting over to the bed with a thermometer.

"Hello, sweetie. Your friend brought you in… Let me take your temperature so I can see if you need to go home early… I know it's pretty close to the end of the day anyway, but if this is something like the stomach flu, the least amount of contact is better for the other students…"

"No, I really feel fine…" Shelley shook her head and stood up.

"Oh, alright then. I guess I'll just tell your friend you're fine, then…"

Her eyes shot to the window where Kevin was standing, staring at a poster that showed the effects of marijuana on the body. Immediately she swaggered, pretending to be weak. The nurse gasped.

"Oh, dear. Hon, I really think you should lay back down…"

Shelley put a hand to her head and groaned, nodding her head softly. "A-Alright… I think you're right… Just…tell him I'm fine and that he can go back to class…" She sat back down, mind prying for a way of sneaking out of here after Kevin left.

The nurse walked out to the waiting room, got Kevin's attention. Shelley was too absorbed in figuring out a way to sneak out to hear Kevin ask the nurse if he could go in and talk to her. The nurse agreed, a bit hesitant at first, before she smiled and motioned him toward the door to the back room where the beds were.

"Hey, Shell. How ya feeling?"

"I already said I was fine…" Before Kevin could ask what she meant by that, her eyes shot up at him, widening with the realization that he was _here_, he wasn't going to _leave_. The words flew out of her mouth before she could filter them.

"What the fuck are you doing here?"

Kevin grinned, sitting down on the bed beside the one she was on. He placed her bags beside her, on her bed, and stretched a little, making a modest inquiry. "Oh, that's great. Say, could I get a ride home after school?"

She stared at him for a moment, considered the prospect, and gave her answer.

"No."

Kevin's eyebrows rose, and he thought for a moment before smiling sadly. "Oh? It's your boyfriend, right?"

Her face grew hot, and her stomach did four somersaults and a cartwheel. "He is _not–_" Her words cut off when she remembered it had kept him away before. However, Kevin's eyebrows still rose and that wide, holey grin came right back.

"He's not your boyfriend? Then why'd he call you babe?"

Shelley looked away. "That's really none of your business… For your information, I happen to hang out with him, and he…he l-likes to call me that, okay?"

His lips pursed, and he narrowed his eyes. "You shouldn't trust guys like that…"

The second it left his mouth, Shelley erupted with loud, bubbly laughter–laughter she tried with all of her might to kill early on in life. "Guys like_ what_!? Like _you_!? That's a good one, Kev!"

She wiped a tear from her mouth and looked with anticipation for his sullen, hurt expression. What she found, however, was a warm smile that radiated with happiness. Her eye twitched, and she cleared her throat. "Why the hell are you smiling?"

"You called me Kev. Kenny's the only other one who does."

Her face turned bright red and she stood up, grabbing her bags. "What, so that automatically makes me someone who gives a shit about you!? It's a force of habit, and what I said still stands! Get a fucking clue!"

Before she could storm off, he grabbed her arm. In turn, she swung around to face him, glaring at him murderously. The only thing stopping her was the fact that he was a McCormick, and there was a chance he'd come back, and it wouldn't be worth the effort in the long run.

"What. Do. You. Want?"

He pulled on her arm a little and she sighed and bent down. He leaned over and cleared his throat a little. It made her a uncomfortable and she suddenly felt like he would try something. Before she could bolt, however, he simply whispered in her ear.

"Guys like him only want to hurt."

She pulled back, scrunching her nose because his breath was rank. She took a few steps back, studying his face before dashing out of the nurse's office.

Kevin had looked worried.

––––––––––––––––

She could have cared less about her other classes now. Right now, all she was trying to do was figure out what he meant. Nicholas was a Goth. They wallowed in pain, so it was pretty fucking obvious he wanted to hurt.

As she walked out to her car, she noticed the figure in the black Cadillac next to it.

Nicholas.

She walked over, smiling, and went to his side of the car. He was on a cell phone from what she could see, and his lips were curled into a smile. A smile, for crying out loud. The second he noticed the shadow looming over him, he looked up and waved his hand at her, shooing her away.

She glared and kicked the car, causing him to look her in the eye. The smile on his face immediately settled back into its thin, morose line. He looked away quickly and said his farewell to whoever was on the other line, flipping the phone closed.

He turned back to Shelley, rolling down the window. "Why the fuck did you kick my car?"

She sneered. "I was getting your attention, asshole. If you have a problem with my manners, you can kiss my ass. I wanted to talk."

The car door opened, forcing her back a few steps. He stepped out, towering over her by at least a head more than her, standing chest-to-chest. The look in his eyes clearly said she had made a huge mistake.

"Listen, you punk-ass bitch–I can't blame you for having terrible manners. Considering how much of a self-righteous dick your brother was in elementary school, your parents probably weren't very good at teaching them to you. But the next time you decide to kick **my** car think _very_ carefully about it, because I might just get mad enough to rip your fucking throat open."

They stood there like that for a long moment, with the silence hanging in the air like a brick of lead. The tension was the equivalent of a vacuum, and for the longest time she swore she couldn't breathe.

She opened her mouth to apologize, but almost immediately before the words came out, he grabbed her shoulders, crushing his lips to hers with the force close to a wall slamming her in the face.

She jerked, but his hands held her there, gripping her shoulders tighter. After a few moments he pulled back, and she immediately acted on the sickening urge to puke.

"What the _fuck_. Seriously, why the–"

She coughed, wiping the vomit from her mouth and turned her head back to him. Unlike her brother, her tendency to vomit had lasted into high school, and she simply learned to turn her head before something even more embarrassing happened. His expression was almost comical: his eyes narrowed in disgust; his eyebrows raised in disbelief; his mouth gaping half-open, too stunned to even finish his sentence.

She chuckled and her face turned red. "S-Sorry… It's not you or anything… I just happen to throw up when I get nervous…"

For a while he just stared at her, but soon he found his voice, and smiled, giving her a wink. "Oh, I get it. I suppose this means you enjoyed that?"

Her cheeks continued flushing, becoming redder and redder as she slowly nodded her head. "Y-Yes…but that was…weird. You were angry, right? Why'd you k-kiss me?"

The Goth shrugged, brushing one of the curls out of the way of his right eye. "You just looked…soft, after I yelled at you. You looked sorry; I saw you without a sneer on your face, or your eyebrows knitted into a glare, or even your lips forming a scowl. It was very…pretty."

Vomit began rising to her mouth, but she swallowed it quickly. "Th-Thank you…"

He shrugged and waved his hand. "It's no problem. Now why'd you want to talk to me?"

For a while she just stood there, trying to remember, but soon she gave up. "I can't remember…" A small laugh rose up in her chest, and Nicholas gave a small smile.

"Sorry about that…"

She shook her head. "No, it's alright. It wasn't important, anyway…"

He pointed at his car. "Cool, now the middle school just let out and I need to go pick up a friend of mine. I'll see you later. Remember to bring the pictures."

She nodded and walked back to her car, and he got into his car and drove away. The nurse would probably be pissed off at her, but she didn't care. She was glad she walked out. If she hadn't, this wouldn't have happened.

After a moment of standing there in a daze, she opened up the car door and slid into the driver's seat. She didn't start the engine, nor did she close the door. She simply sat there, thinking.

Logically speaking, it was pointless to like Eric. He was four years younger than her, was a fatass, and as far as she knew, he didn't think much of her. Now Nicholas was a much more logical choice. For one, he was taller than her, and by all accounts much better-looking than Eric, so what did that boil down to?

Nicholas was a far more acceptable crush than Eric was.


	5. Frozen

Yay for incredibly long chapters! Ha ha. I really liked this chapter, mainly because it was so damn difficult to write. I sat for thirty minutes, just staring at the part where Shelley stops in mid-attack and pats him (not spoiling it for you, sorry) on the head, thinking about what to do after that, but I couldn't come up with anything. I went back the next day and found the right way to write it out. Edited it a little. You know, basic writer stuff.

You ready to hear where the chapter title comes from?

You ready? Are you sure you want to hear it?

It might shock you. Are you really sure?

Alright, suit yourself.

"Frozen", by Madonna.  
(Her early shit is the best, isn't it?)

* * *

**"Frozen"**  
_Chapter Five _

For about forty minutes Shelley sat in her car before she felt compelled to get home.

When she finally drove home, however, she found that black Cadillac in the driveway where she normally parked. She cursed under her breath. "Shit. Why the hell is Nicholas over here…?"

She parked the car on the side of the street and looked at it for a moment.

There were two people in the back–one looked about Stan's age with red streaks in his hair, and the other looked like he was still in elementary school, short and thin with his black hair swept over one eye–, staring ahead of them at the girl standing out of the car on the passenger's side. She was yelling loud enough so Shelley could hear her even with the doors closed and windows rolled up.

"I wanted to give you a second chance, Nicky, but it's obvious you're still a prick like always! And you'll always be a prick, so you can just burn in hell for all I care! You can keep that fucking CD, as I'm sure you've probably destroyed it!"

Shelley's eyes shot to Nicholas, who looked pissed off as all hell, enough to even kill. His voice was still faint, like the girl's, but it wasn't nearly as loud, mainly because he was so much farther away. "I haven't destroyed it, but now that you mention it, that's a pretty fucking good idea! You can just go back to your mainstream music and industrial garbage! I thought you'd changed your mind, but I guess I was wrong!"

She gave him the finger, slamming the door on him. "Yeah, like I'd _really_ change my mind and go back to wallowing in perceived torment, asshole! Call me when you grow up!"

For a while Nicholas sat there, glaring at her, but soon he glanced back at the others in the back seat. When he turned back, his expression had softened, and he sighed. He shook his head, saying something she obviously heard but wasn't loud enough for Shelley to hear it.

She shook for a moment before shaking her head. Nicholas hit his fists on the dashboard, letting out a swear that was so loud Shelley could hear it. Then, he peeled out of the driveway.

For a while the girl just stood there, staring down the street, and Shelley finally decided this would be the best time to go home. There was no telling_ why_ this girl was here.

She crossed the snowy lawn, suddenly becoming aware that the girl was watching her. As she reached the door, the girl walked over and tapped her on the shoulder. Shelley turned around, sizing her up and down.

The girl's hair was cropped short, wearing typical "scene" clothes–flats, hoodie, stripes everywhere, thick black eyeliner and lip gloss. The oddest thing was her figure–she had probably the biggest knockers Shelley had ever seen. Albeit, she was fairly big for someone her height, but still, her knockers were _huge_.

"You're Stan's sister, aren't you?"

Shelley looked back up at the girl's eyes. "Yeah, so? You aren't Wendy, that's for sure. Who the hell are you?"

The girl pursed her lips disapprovingly, making a sound with her tongue and teeth. "Henrietta, and if you're going to give me that attitude I guess I'll just have to annoy you further."

Shelley grinned. "Really? My brother went through his "goth" phase years ago. Why are you over at our house?"

"Stan didn't come to school today…" Her eyes expressed concern, but Shelley could see Henrietta was too pissed off at her argument earlier to give a shit about her brother at the moment. "Was he sick?"

Rummaging through her purse, Shelley laughed wryly. "No, he wasn't sick. I kicked him out of my car today because his whiny-ass friend started pulling my hair while I was driving. You know…" She turned the key into the lock, unlocking the door. "…I wasn't aware my brother cheated on Wendy. He seems to be so absorbed with her to date someone like you on the side."

Henrietta's brow rose, and she shifted her weight to the other leg. She gave an irritated chuckle. "Someone like _me_? And what would I _be_, exactly?"

Shelley turned the handle and walked inside. Her answer was lost at the sight of Stan and Kyle air-guitaring to her Iron Maiden CD. Her blood was boiling, and they seemed to be in the middle of mocking her…again.

"What the hell is going on in here!?! Why the fuck weren't you shitheads at school!?"

Stan froze up, effectively not landing properly in the middle of a scissor-kick. His face hit the carpet, and Kyle actually jumped on the couch and screamed.

"Oh shit, Stan! You said your sister didn't get out of school for another forty minutes!!"

Stan stood up and dashed over to the stereo, flipping it off. "I thought she did!!" He ran up to the door and bowed his head. "S-Sorry, Shelley! S-Seriously! It's just that we didn't have a ride and–"

"Why didn't you_ walk_? That's what I had intended. Honestly, don't think you can give this to mom as an excuse and get _me_ in trouble! I'll fucking kill you!"

She grabbed for his hair, yanking on it as hard as she could and bringing him to his knees. He shouted. "Shit! Ah, God! Shelley! Let go!! That fucking hurts!!"

Shelley merely laughed. "And _another_ thing–what makes you think you can cheat on Wendy like that!? It's common courtesy to break up with her first!"

"W-What!? I'm not!"

Henrietta stepped into the living room and slapped Shelley across the hand. "Let him go, you stupid bitch! We're not dating; we're just friends."

Shelley scoffed, dropping him instantly from shock that someone would actually _slap_ her. For a moment she just stood there, staring at the three middle-schoolers in front of her. Kyle had gone over to Stan and was patting his head, smoothing his hair down. The Jew turned his eyes to Shelley. "Shelley, why the hell are you so pissed off all the time? Stop beating up Stan, seriously. Don't you think you've gotten too old for that?"

Shelley glared right back at him, pointed at the couch. "You–Broflovski–couch, _now_!" Kyle gave an aggravated grunt and walked over to the couch.

Henrietta helped Stan up, smiling a little. "Hey, Stan, I was wondering if you wanted to go get something to eat."

Stan rubbed his head and glanced over at his sister. "S-Sure. I'd prefer to stay out as long as possible." He glanced over at Kyle. "Hey, Kyle, you wanna come with?"

Kyle shook his head. "No, but thanks, dude. My mom's probably wondering why I'm not home yet…"

Stan nodded and glanced at Shelley, a tear at the corner of his eye; his head was _still _throbbing. "Can I go? Or will you make me stay here?"

Shelley pushed past him and threw her bags over by the stereo. "Do whatever the hell you want. But you're gonna get it tonight…" She pushed the eject button and removed the CD. Stan was putting his shoes on, and Henrietta was giving her a queer look. Shelley just looked away and searched for the CD case.

After a while the door slammed shut and the room grew silent. She looked up at the ceiling and sighed. "Oh my God, I so don't need this right now…"

She turned around, gawking at the sight.

"Why the fuck are you still here, Broflovski?"

Kyle was sitting on the couch, grabbing his knees and glaring straight ahead at the television set, his lips in a tight, determined line.

"I have a name, Shelley."

She rolled her eyes and placed the CD on a chair by the stereo. "Fine, _Kyle_. Why the fuck are you still here?"

Kyle stood up, looking over at her. His fists were clenched, and it was obvious he was pissed off. "You have to stop hurting Stan, Shelley."

Shelley eyed him, cocking a grin. "Oh? And what makes you think I do? Does it make you sad to see him hurting?" She laughed, giving herself props for the sing-song voice she had added.

Kyle's lips quivered a little, but he stood strong. "…A little, because he's my best friend. You obviously don't know the value of friends, Shelley, because you don't have any. And I pity you."

At first she assumed the prickling in her heart was just anger trying to rise to the surface, but she was completely wrong. "Y-Yeah… Like I care. But what are _you_ going to do about it?"

"Hurt me instead."

She had to do a double-take before saying anything. It was sickening–this noble, kind gesture of friendship. It was making her actually _sick_. Her eyes narrowed. "What?"

Kyle bowed his head a little, playing with the end of his coat. "When you get pissed off, just hurt me instead of Stan…"

She burst out laughing, but soon she found her voice hollow, empty. He was serious. He was fucking _serious_. He wanted to get beaten up instead of Stan. "Alright. I'll do that. You want to take his punishment for tonight, worm?"

Kyle nodded and Shelley took a few steps toward him. He winced, preparing himself for the blow, but it never came. After a moment he looked up to see her staring at him with the most dumb-founded expression he'd ever seen. "Well…?"

She shook her head and reached her hand out for his hair, intent on kicking him in the groin or gut or whatever the hell else she felt like doing after she'd had him still by his hair. But instead she patted him on the head. It was too bizarre; why the hell was he being so fucking _noble_? It was making her confused. Kyle looked up at her and she blinked.

He pointed at her face. "Are you crying?"

She turned away and wiped at her eyes, finding it true. Why the hell was she crying? Here was someone _begging_ to be hurt, and she couldn't even fucking do it! Her arm raised once more, but only to extend her index finger and point at the door. "Just…something in my fucking eye. Go, Broflovski."

Kyle took a few steps back, picked up his book bag. "You aren't going to hurt Stan tonight, are you?"

She turned around, looked him up and down. "No. No, I won't."

He tilted his head and reached for the doorknob to the front door, turning it. "You won't…tell him I did this, will you…?"

She wiped away another tear and laughed whole-heartedly. "Why? To spare him the embarrassment of not having the own gall of sticking up for himself against his own sister? So he doesn't have to know that his friend thinks he's too much a pussy to do it on his own?"

"Y…" Kyle's lips quivered, and his eyes narrowed. "…Yes… I think…" He trailed off, his eyebrows rising in defeat. "You're right…he can't handle it himself."

Shelley just smirked to herself and slammed the door as he dashed out the door.

She glanced out the window, noting how Kyle looked red in the face from such a short run to the sidewalk. Must've been because he was Jewish or something… "Stupid," she muttered to herself. "Broflovski, you're fucking stupid… How can…?" Her voice faltered, and she found herself walking up the steps.

"How can you do something like that for someone…?" It still made no sense. Perhaps it was because she'd only ever had one friend in her life–Kevin, of course, and that turned out to be a waste of her time–, or maybe it was the fact that the people she opened herself up to were only the ones she decided to date… Either way, it made no sense. It wasn't possible for someone to do that for their friends, right? Normal people didn't go around giving themselves up for their friends, right?

Hell, she didn't know anything about "normal" people. She didn't know anything about friends.

…She didn't really know anything, did she…?

As she passed by Stan's room, she noticed the picture sitting on the side-table next to his bed. Stan and Kyle, laughing and being chummy as always. Perhaps she could use that. Yeah…

Yeah!

Nicholas had told her to get the pictures, and now that her brother was out of the house, she could easily just take it without him knowing!

There were dozens of other photos around it, many pictures of Wendy, too. One picture of him and Kyle wouldn't be missed among all those other pictures of his girlfriend.

She cocked a grin and waltzed into his room, grabbing the picture frame. That wouldn't do. She didn't want to make it obvious. She just had to replace it with something else. But what? All she had to do was find a new picture. She was sure he had a few boxes of photographs lying around in here…

She got down on her hands and knees and glanced under the bed. A pair of yellow glowing, luminescent eyes peered back at her.

"S…Sparky! Get out from under there, you little faggot!"

The dog yelped, turning tail and dashing out from under the bed. Shelley rolled her eyes and crawled as far as she could. It wasn't too spacious under there, and the fact that she had boobs made it harder. There were some boxes at the back, and she was pretty sure she saw him put pictures in a box once, before.

The box was worn–just an old shoebox–and the corners of it were frayed and rubbed down from years of sliding out from under the bed. There was a thin layer of dust, from what she could feel, as she grabbed the top of it and pulled it towards her.

Sparky was back in the room, watching her with slight interest as she crawled back out and sat up. Her eyes drifted over to his nose, which was invading her personal space. His tail was wagging, and he was staring at what she'd found, tilting his head as if he'd never seen it before.

"Sparky! Get away! You're too old to be climbing the steps anyway!" She gave him a light slap on the haunches and the dog ran out of the room. She cleared her throat, coughing up the dust that had invaded her nose. Her hair was a mess now; locks of it were getting in her eyes. She blew them away casually with her mouth, effectively making a 'fttt' sound, and opened the box.

There was a picture–the most recent–that was obviously a double of the picture they'd put in the frame. That would do. She could easily replace it with the old one in the frame and Stan wouldn't be able to tell the difference.

She smiled and turned the frame over, removing the back of it to remove the picture. Simple, or so she thought. And then she saw it on the back of the picture:

A kiss. The shape of a kiss in lipstick, from a pair of lips. The words, "Oh, Stan! If only Wendy knew!" written in even more lipstick on the back.

Her heart just about stopped.

It took her a while to process it. As much as she teased him, she never thought he was actually _gay_. What did that mean, exactly? Nicholas wouldn't even have to do anything with the photograph. All he'd have to do would be to show it to random kids at school and Stan's life would already be a living hell.

No…wait…

That was perfect. Kyle had told her he admitted that Stan was a pussy that couldn't stand up for himself. She had all she needed. And with this picture to prove it…she could pretty much make their relationship hit the fan with just a few deceptive words.

It was almost _too_ perfect.

––––––––––––––––

Shelley was sitting on the couch when Stan walked back in the door, tossing his jacket into the corner. It was about nine o'clock, and he was dead tired. Their parents didn't ask questions…unlike when she came home that late at night. It was enough to grate her nerves to begin with.

"Hey Mom. Sorry I was so late; I was out with some friends talking…"

"Stanley! Make sure you tell me when you're going to be out this late! Are you hungry? Did you and your friends eat something for dinner??"

Stan glanced over at Shelley, giving her a weird look. She was grinning to herself, but she couldn't help it. She had the perfect dirt on him now.

"Stan?"

He averted his eyes back to his mother, anxious. "Y-Yeah…we ate…"

Shelley stood up, and Stan winced. Their mother walked back into the kitchen and he prepared for the worst. Shelley walked towards him. Closer… Closer… She was looming over him now.

Shelley snickered at the sight of his scrunched up face in preparation for her attack.

"Boo."

Stan jumped, utterly surprised that she had spoken instead of hit him. "Wh-What do you want now??"

She passed by him, shrugged her shoulders as she walked up the steps. "You should thank your boyfriend. After all, he decided you weren't man enough to take my punishments. So he decided to let me punish him instead of you."

"Wh-What?" His jaw dropped, his eyes widened; and she smiled, pulled the picture from behind her back.

"Shame on you. Dating Wendy and two-timing her with another man…"

He looked at the photo then burst out laughing. "Oh my God, you _saw_ that!? We did that this morning after you kicked us out of the car!"

Her eye twitched, completely shocked that he didn't seem to care. "What." It was a statement, not a question.

For a moment, he actually looked afraid, but that moment soon passed. "Kyle wanted to piss you off, so he put on some of _your_ lipstick and started mocking you. He kept saying, 'Oh, Skyler! I've never loved anyone else but you!' and 'Kevin, I know I'm in love with Skyler, but I can't wait any longer! Take me now!'" He grinned, satisfied. "And then he started joking around and making fun of all the girls in our classes. You must've made a misunderstanding."

Blood began rushing to her face, and her heart began beating fiercely. Before she knew it, she had pinned him to the wall by his neck with her arm. He wasn't in any danger, and she intended not to strangle him or leave a single bruise or cut. As much as she didn't understand any of it, Kyle had moved something in her, and she couldn't bring herself to go back on her word to him.

"Listen up, Stan, you may make fun of me, you may mock my taste in music and use my make-up just to piss me off–but when your friend offers to take away _your_ pain for tonight so that you can have at least one moment of happiness, you better not fuck it up by making me enraged. If I were you, I'd keep your fucking mouth shut and enjoy what your little _boyfriend_ has given you. I think he deserves better than that."

The idea was ridiculous. Self-sacrifice. That was something done for fucking family, not _friends_. And it made her sick with herself. Sick to look at herself in the mirror. After all, what was _family_ to her, anyway? It was just something to beat up on when she felt angry, of course. Just something to break. Something she _wanted_ to break.

It wasn't supposed to be something to break. It was supposed to be cherished.

So why didn't she?

She dropped him, stalked up the stairs and locked herself in her room for the rest of the night.

* * *

Just giving you all a heads-up: The next chapter is centered around Stan because the summary got that feel across, and I don't write nearly enough about the main characters. 


	6. Softer

Hello there, lovelies! Well, it's Valentine's Day, and I figured I'd give you guys something to look forward to in your miserable, single lives. Ha ha! Just kidding. I'm sure some of you have more of a life than I have. (All I do is write fanfiction and draw. Don't be like me. Go out and LIVE!)

The title of this chapter comes from a Jimmy Eat C_–World _song. The lyrics are pretty much the only thing that fits here. I'm also glad I used a Jimmy Eat World song because I imagine Stan would like stereotypical emo crap. (Ironically, this song is one of the only song of their's I can stand. Aside from _Drugs or Me_ and _Big Casino_. And their cover of _Brown-Eyed Girl_.)

Enjoy the fic, and have a lovely Valentine's Day. (My parents didn't get me chocolate this year. -bitchcomplainwhine- 8D)

* * *

**"Softer"  
**_Chapter Six_

"_Awwww, dude! Don't put that shit on your face! Gross! You're not supposed to–"_

_Kyle smeared the crap on his lips and looked at himself in the mirror. "Huh. I hope to _God_ Shelley doesn't use this. Then it would be like kissing your sister. _That_ would be gross."_

_Stan burst out laughing. "Dude! You look so weird in lipstick! Take that shit off!"_

_Kyle turned around and fluttered his eyelashes, grinning like mad. "But don't I look just fabulous, Stan?? Like a modern Monroe…"_

_Stan raised his eyebrows. "Dude, with hair like that, you should be comparing yourself to Lucille Ball." _

_Kyle burst out laughing. "Yeah, my hair's pretty fucked up, dude!" He turned to Stan again and fluttered his eyelashes once more. "Give Lucy a kiss, Ricky!" He leaned over, making over-dramatic smooching noises, and Stan burst out laughing, pushing him away._

"_Dude! Cut that out and wipe that lipstick off!!"_

_Kyle nudged him, snickering. "Dude, Stan, guess who I am, guess who I am…" Stan looked over at him and had to put a hand over his mouth to keep himself from hissing out a laugh. Kyle had puffed up his cheeks and pulled on his curls to make his hair looking somewhat straight. His eyes were also crossed, and he was pursing his lips together to make himself look fat._

_Stan held his sides and laughed silently, glancing back over at Kyle. "I…I dunno, dude. Who are you?"_

_Kyle grinned, letting out the air and nodded his head. "Here, let me give you another hint–" He shook his head and took a few deep breaths. As he was preparing his voice, Stan had a fairly good guess who he was imitating, but he had to see this. It was just too goddamn funny. After a moment, Kyle made a few croaking noises and started talking._

"_Aye, seriouslah, yew gahs!"_

_Stan burst out laughing. "Cartman! Ha ha! That's awesome, dude! I could see him dolling himself up like that doll he keeps hidden under his bed!"_

"_Seriously, fatass is some kind of transvestite or something!! Oh, guess who I am now!!!" He worked up some saliva, sucked it back in making a gross sucking noise, made his voice high and nasally. _

"_Shut up, turd!!" He fluttered his eyelashes, looking up at the ceiling. "Oh, Skyler, I'm so in love with you, but I love Kevin, too! We've already had sex and I'm pregnant with his baby!!"_

_Stan grabbed his sides and let out a roar of laughter, kicking his feet against the bed, pounding his fist on his sister's bed. "Ahaha! Dude! She's… ha ha ha! She's just like that!!"_

_Kyle laughed. "Oh, and check this one out, dude!!" Stan by this point had doubled over and was wheezing on his sister's bed. Kyle watched him for a while, waiting patiently for him to compose himself. _

_After a while, Stan looked back over and sighed, rubbing his cheeks a little. "Okay, dude. I think I'm done laughing… Who are you imitating this time?"_

_Kyle grinned and put his hands to his heart, sitting much like a girl with his legs turning more inward. He fluttered his eyelashes. "Oh, Stan is _such_ an activist! He makes my heart flutter like mad! Even though I can be a real bitch, I've been in an on-and-off relationship with him for years!"_

_Stan raised an eyebrow and pursed his lips together. "Dude, don't make fun of Wendy." Kyle just laughed and tossed his hand at him._

"_Come on, dude. If you can't laugh at your girlfriend, who can you laugh at? Besides, when was the last time you actually went on a date with her? Like, a month ago? Do you even have _anything_ in common with her anymore?" He burst out laughing and Stan pushed him a little. _

"_Ugh, stop laughing at Wendy, dude."_

_Kyle kept laughing, and after a moment he glanced over at Stan. "I can't help it, dude. Wendy's just too much of a bitch. Honestly, the way she treats you, it's like she thinks she's better than you! I just can't see why you like her so much!" He burst out laughing and Stan glared at him._

_He knew a way to shut Kyle up real good. He walked over and bent down on one knee, grabbed Kyle's hand and kissed the top of it gently. "Marry me, Kyle Broflovski."_

_He smirked and glanced back up at his friend, entertained that he'd finally gotten Kyle to stop laughing. Kyle's face was bright red with rage, and he was glaring down at him with a stare so intense, even the dead would have felt someone watching them._

"_That was gay, dude."_

_Stan stood up and burst out laughing. "Then next time you shouldn't make fun of my girlfriend. I love her more than anything, and one day I plan on marrying her." He gave Kyle a wink, and the redhead turned even redder, clenched his teeth._

"_Dude, you kissed my hand and everything! Even if it's just a joke, you don't do that!"_

_Stan laughed and shrugged his shoulders. "You shouldn't get so mad, Kyle. The way you're acting, it seems like you wish _you_ were dating her…"_

_Kyle burst out laughing. "Dude, I'd never try to get between you and Wendy! Besides, she's way too much like my mother! It's a major turn-off." After a moment, he put a finger to his lips thoughtfully. "Hmmm… Wait, Stan. I have a great idea!"_

_He ran out of the room and came back with the picture of them from last year. They were leaning against a tree, grinning, linking arms. Kyle was more subdued, contained. And Stan was just…well, he was holding his fist up in the air victoriously. They'd won some lame race or some shit like that. It was pretty cool, since they got ten bucks out of it, but still. Lame._

_Kyle removed the picture from the frame and turned it over. "Dude, we have to put this on record!"_

_Stan raised an eyebrow. "What? Put what on record?"_

_Kyle laughed, grabbed the lipstick and opened it, twirling it out and holding it like a pen. He glanced at Stan and grinned. "May you always remember the day you proposed to a Jew." Stan burst out laughing and Kyle turned back to the picture, scribbling words on it._

"_Oh…Stan… If only…Wendy…knew! There!" He put it up to his lips and kissed it, leaving behind an imprint of the kiss in the lipstick he'd been wearing. He showed Stan the picture and Stan burst out laughing._

"_Dude, this is so _gay_…"_

_Kyle nodded his head. "Of course it is. I'm wearing lipstick. What's _not_ gay about that? I'm gonna go wash it off now. Just a sec'."_

_Kyle was in the bathroom washing it off for a while, and even after he came out, some of the lipstick's colour had stayed on his lips. He groaned. "Dude, no wonder girls have such red lips. Their make-up is permanent or some shit like that! This is not cool! My mom's gonna kill me if she sees!"_

_Stan had put the picture back in its frame and sat it back on his bedside dresser. He looked up and snorted at the sight of how red Kyle's lips were. They were almost as red as his hair. "Yeah, well think about what Shelley's gonna do to me when she gets home. She'll be fucking pissed. She'll rip my head off!"_

"_No she won't." Stan blinked and looked up at Kyle, who was watching him with a determined red line where his usual smile or frown was. "Trust me, Stan. She won't."_

_Stan laughed. "Whatever you say, I guess."_

–––––––––––––––

It was sunny outside.

Stan groaned and rolled back over towards the door to his room, away from the window. "It can't be this…" He trailed off, and the notion that it was eerily late crept up on him. It was only Tuesday; why hadn't his mother come to wake him up?

He sat up, rubbing his eyes and looking at the clock.

10:38 a.m.

"Wh–" He screamed and jumped out of bed, scrambling to his closet, grabbing some clothes, pulling them on as fast as he could. As he bounded down the steps, he caught sight of Shelley sitting on the couch, snickering.

He dashed into the kitchen. "Mom!! Why didn't you wake me up!? It's two hours after school started! Are we having a snow day!?"

His mother looked up from the paper and blinked. "Stanley, what are you so upset about? It's only 7 o'clock. I was about to go in and wake you up. What do you mean, two hours after school started?"

In the living room, Shelley burst out laughing, and everything became clear. He stomped into the living room, glaring. "Shelley, what's so funny!?"

Shelley grinned and held up the clock from her room. "I just changed your clock so you'd be up earlier this morning. I put a lamp by the window so it would look brighter outside. Clever, huh?"

"Shelley, that's not funny!!"

Shelley just laughed again. "It _is_ funny, turd! I can't stand another day listening to you groaning and asking mom for five more minutes! I was late to school yesterday because your little boyfriend was late, and if I get one more tardy I have a detention!"

Stan's voice fell silent and he stared at her for a while dumbly. That was right… Kyle had stood up for him. He said Shelley wouldn't kill him last night, and he'd offered to take his punishment instead. But that was only because Kyle had gotten him into trouble with her first.

He smiled. "Okay, thanks, Shelley."

Shelley's face froze, and she gave him a weird look. "Thanks for _what_, turd?"

"For helping me wake up. It's alright. I'll just tell Kyle we'll walk to school today. You don't have to worry about being late today, okay?"

Shelley became indignant, probably due to the fact that her mean action had gotten praised instead, and she stalked back up the stairs. "Whatever, turd. Just don't change your mind, because I'm not going to come back and get you if you feel too lazy to walk all the way."

Stan went to the hall closet and pulled out his coat. He pulled his hoodie on and then pulled the coat on over it. He went to the kitchen and grabbed his backpack, shrugged it on his shoulders and walked out the door.

He wasn't hungry, and he didn't feel like sitting around for half an hour. Besides, he needed to talk to Kyle.

–––––––––––––––

It was Kyle's dad that answered the door. He was carrying his briefcase and holding a bunch of manila folders under his arm to keep from falling all over the ground, so Stan could only guess he was a bit late for work.

"Oh, hi Stan! Is Shelley already here?"

Stan shook his head. "Nah, I decided to give her a break today. Is Kyle up?"

Mr. Broflovski looked back in the house. "Sheila! Is Kyle up yet??"

His wife answered him from far off in the kitchen. "Oh, he's eating breakfast! Ike, drink your milk; I won't take no for an answer. Is something wrong, Gerald??"

"Oh, Stan's just here early. Apparently he's giving Shelley a break and so they need to leave a bit earlier today for school." He grimaced and stumbled out onto the steps, pushing past Stan. "Ike, come on! You're going to make me late!"

"Wait, what? You're taking Ike to school? Why don't you just take Kyle, too?"

Gerald turned to him. "Yes, didn't Kyle tell you? I offered to take him to school with his brother, but he decided he'd rather not be a burden." He turned back to the house. "Come on, Ike! Get your bag and get out here!"

Kyle's father sat his briefcase on top of his car, grabbed the keys from his pocket, opened the door and tossed the files inside. Ike dashed out the door and waved at Stan a little.

"Hi, Stan."

It was odd how much Ike had grown. He was now up to Stan's waist and fairly athletic. He was much bigger than Kyle had been when he was that age, that was for sure.

Gerald hopped in the car and threw the back door open. "Come on, Ike! No time for chitchat!" Ike wasted no time running to get into the car, and after a while Kyle's father started the car and began driving off. The briefcase, having been left on the roof of the car, slid onto the hood and Kyle's father let out some curse in Hebrew. Stan smiled a little and turned to the door.

Kyle was grabbing his book bag and pulling his coat on. His mother came out and handed him a thermos. "Come on, Kyle. Take your thermos with you. I don't like you eating that non-kosher food the cafeteria serves."

Kyle groaned and took it, making a face at Stan as if he were about to puke. Stan snickered and Sheila pushed her son out the door. "Go on, Kyle. I don't want you late to school, and I don't want you falling asleep at Stanley's house again."

They walked over to the sidewalk and Kyle turned bright red. He shoved the thermos into his book bag and glanced at Stan, whispering. "Ugh, she's so nagging…"

"And don't fall asleep at school, either!"

Stan snickered and whispered back. "Was that the excuse for not going to school yesterday?" Kyle nodded and raised his hand to let his mother know he'd heard her.

"And if you start feeling sick, make sure you eat lunch so your blood sugar doesn't go haywire! Scheduled eating is key!"

Kyle turned back and gave his mother a broad smile. "Thanks, Mom! I love you!" His father had pulled out of the driveway and was driving down the street now.

His mother put a hand over her heart and smiled. "Oh, I love you, too, boobala! Tell me that more often, okay?"

She shut the door and Kyle stretched his arms. "Oh my God, she's so annoying…" Stan laughed a little.

"What was that just now? You looked totally convincing."

Kyle looked at him, incredulous. "Are you _kidding_?? With my mom, I've learned how to act. I could probably lie on a lie detector test or something and not be caught the way my mother's forced me to keep up this good little boy act."

Stan rolled his eyes. "So, why didn't you get a ride from your dad? You wouldn't be so late to school all the time."

Kyle waved his hand a little. "Nah, I'd rather ride to school with you than Ike. I mean, he's my little brother and all, but you're my best friend. Besides, when I ride with Shelley, I get to annoy fatass for a little bit longer than usual."

Stan laughed again. After a while they walked in silence, and Stan was walking in the yards, listening to his feet crunch in the snow. For a while he walked, thinking about how to approach it. Sure, Kyle was his best friend, so it was normal for him to put himself on the line for Stan's well-being, but he wasn't sure Wendy would. Wendy was a bit…iffy lately. And it was _true_, he didn't have much in common with her anymore.

"Kyle…"

Kyle stopped and looked back at him, and Stan realized he'd stopped walking, too. He gave his friend a small smile. "Thanks."

Kyle blinked. "Thanks for what?"

"Shelley told me what you did last night. So, thanks. I know you just felt guilty about making her late and thus making her beat me up, but still, it means a lot."

Kyle's eye twitched. "What? She _told_ you!?" He took a few steps over and leaned over to his best friend, putting a hand on his shoulder. His hand was shaking, and it was obvious Kyle was pissed off that Shelley had told him anything. "Look, Stan, I did that because you're my best friend, not because I was guilty. It pisses me off when she thinks she can just beat up on you without any consequences, and I think you deserve better than that."

Stan looked him over. "Yeah, but didn't your mom wonder where you got the bruises or something?"

Kyle laughed. "She didn't beat me up."

His eyes widened. "What?? She didn't??"

"No, dude. She started crying and patted me on the head. Then she told me to leave."

Stan's mouth dropped. "She…she started _crying._ You're serious? She was really crying??"

Kyle laughed. "Yeah, dude! She started crying, and pretty heavily, too. I feel sorry for her. She doesn't know anything about friendship. She thought I was doing it because I didn't think you were enough of a man to take her punishments. I let her think that was why, but still. I can't believe she didn't think it was because I cared about you, dude. Your sister's fucked up."

Stan grew quiet and nodded. "I guess so…"

–––––––––––––––

It was around lunchtime; Kyle was sitting where he usually sat, eyeing the odd-looking stew in his thermos. "My mom has two dishwashers and sets of dinnerware for _this_ shit. What the hell, dude?"

Stan shrugged and licked the banana pudding off his spoon. "Dude, Kyle, bet you wish you could have the food the cafeteria serves, huh??" He acted like he was really enjoying it, even though it had the same consistency as chalk and the dryness, as well. "Mmmmm, better than your mom's cooking; that's for sure…"

Kyle clenched his teeth and looked ready to throttle him, but Stan just laughed. After a moment, Kyle grinned wickedly and grabbed the spoon from his friend's mouth, shoving it into his own and tasting that nasty crap. He spit it out. "Ah, dude!!! This tastes like _shit_!!! No wonder half the kids bring their own lunches!!"

A moment later, they felt a dark, chilly presence waft past them, and the two middle-school Goth-boys wandered past their table. The littler of the two stood up onto his tiptoes and whispered, "Fags," into the other's ear. The red-streaked Goth snickered and glanced over at them, winking snidely and flipping the fringe out of his eyes.

"Got that right…"

Stan glared back at him, flipping them off. This just amused them further. However, before they could fully pass the table, their way was blocked by Henrietta. She had her hands on her hips and was giving them the evil eye. She pursed her lips together and quirked a brow.

"You got something to say about Stan? Why don't you say it to _my face_. Thorne, Peter."

After a moment of tense silence, Thorne, the Goth with red-streaked hair that resembled an overgrown patch of weeds, nudged the shorter one, Peter. "Come on, Pete." After a moment, he nodded his head in the direction of Henrietta, as if in invitation, but he was still looking at Peter. "Let's go out back and have a smoke."

They paused there for a moment, and Henrietta shook her head. "No. That won't work. I'll smoke by myself, thanks." They deflated slightly, their heads turning toward the ground, before they walked away. Stan grinned and gave her a high-five as she walked up to him.

"Nice, Henrietta. It's obvious they miss you. You'll win them over yet."

Henrietta sat down beside him, hanging her head and moaning. "I hope so. I really miss them… I'm just fucking sick of their holier-than-thou attitudes. They're too fucking elite for their own goddamn pants. And I _know_ it's because of Nicholas! That stupid fuckhead!"

Stan nodded. "Don't worry. Nicholas'll suffer when Thorne and Peter stop hanging out with him." Henrietta glanced over at him, with an odd expression on her face. She opened her mouth to speak.

"Ah, goddamn, you gahs. Why does fatty Goth chick have to sit here? Stan, tell her to leave. Seriouslah."

Cartman walked over to their table and set a tray piled high with food down on the table, sitting across from Henrietta.

Henrietta narrowed her eyes, glaring at him with every ounce of hate she possessed in her eyes. She sneered. "Th-the-th-th-th-the-th-that's easy for you to say, _Porky_."

Kyle burst out laughing, slapping her a high-five. "Dude! That was epic!!!" Stan followed his example, instead remarking on how much more witty she was than Cartman ever could be.

Cartman glared. "God damn it. Shut up, fags."

Kyle smirked. "That won't work, dude. From now on, I can only see you wearing a bow-tie and having a severe speech impediment."

Wendy walked by their table with Bebe, and Stan jumped up. "Wendy! I need to ask you something!"

She turned around, fidgeting slightly with her tray and trying to hide the fact that she'd ordered something that was slightly fattening. She glanced at Bebe and nodded, handing off her tray to her blonde friend. Bebe smiled and accepted it, giving Stan a "You better not even _think_ about breaking up with her" look before walking away.

He dragged Wendy off to the side, held her hand. After a moment he looked up at her; she was frowning a little, in expectation of the inevitable break-up…again. As much as she hated to admit it, she was the one that did the breaking-up, so she had no idea how she'd be able to handle being dumped.

Stan just smiled.

"This has nothing to do with me breaking-up with you… I still love you, Wends."

She smiled shyly and kissed him on the lips, pulling back and swinging his hand a little, playfully. "Okay…so what do you want to ask me, Stan?"

It took him a moment to gather for words, as his mind went completely blank. He fought for the right way to say it, spitting it out with more difficulty than chewing rubber. "Would… Would you…intentionally…get…b-beaten up…in my…stead?"

She gave him an incredulous look and dropped his hand, bringing her palms out in an exaggerated "what" gesture. "What? Stan, babe, why are _you_ the one asking _me_ to protect you?? That should be the other way around. Are you a pussy or something?"

He frowned, his bottom lip quivering, and he knew he had her trapped. Her jaw dropped and she immediately wrapped her arms around him. "Oh, I'm so _sorry_, babe! I forgot how sensitive you were! I didn't mean it!" After a while, he sniffled, trying to continue his charade and get the answer out of her–the answer he wanted to hear so he'd know who he cared the most about…and who cared the most about him.

She pulled back, holding his hands and swinging them back and forth again. "Sweetie, you _know_ I love you, too…but… Er…" She winced, hoping she wasn't going to hurt his feelings again. "Don't you think you should be a _little_ bit more of the man in our relationship? I'd like to feel like the woman every once in a while, too, you know?"

His jaw dropped–not out of hurt, but out of shock. That wasn't the answer he was looking for at _all_. He blinked, closed his mouth. "Y-Yeah." Smiled. "Of course, babe. I'll try and be more of a man for you…"

Wendy giggled and glanced over to where Bebe was waiting for her, on the other side of the cafeteria. "Oh, Stan… You're so adorable." He smiled, until she finished the conversation and walked away curtly. "Don't try, okay? Just do it."

He heard snickers and a low voice shush the other, so he turned around and saw…who else? Those damn Goth kids. He glared and Thorne nodded his head, giving him a thumbs-up. "Smooth, Raven." Peter giggled and leaned over, whispering something to his older friend.

Stan glared. "At least I'm good enough for people like her! Jesus, step off your fucking pedestals and try to have a meaningful relationship, dumbasses!"

Thorne raised his eyebrows and held up his hands in a mild surrender. "Alright, chill. We should have known you'd respond like _that_…" Stan rolled his eyes and turned around. As he was walking away, the littlest Goth spoke.

"Give her back…"

Stan spun around and looked at them. Peter was frowning, and he actually looked as if he were on the verge of tears. Stan just stared at him, eyes slightly wide. "I…I didn't…take her from you two…"

Thorne glared. "He didn't mean that Wendy bitch, retard."

Stan narrowed his eyes, suddenly angry at how blind they were, and flipped them off. "Neither did I." And with that, he stormed away, leaving them to futilely wait for her return. Life was a fucking bitch. It didn't look like Henrietta was winning them over at _all_.

––––––––––––

When Stan got home after school, he stared up at his ceiling for about an hour or more. After much deliberation, he decided it would be easier to sort out his thoughts in the form of a list…as girly as list-making was.

He picked up a pen off his desk and grabbed a loose sheet of notebook paper lying around, set to writing. He first wrote out all the things he liked about Kyle, put them all in a column: funny; awesome Jew-fro; really smart; good at math; "sticks up for what he believes in"; "he cares about me"; "sticks up for me against Shelley"; "makes me laugh"; nice ass; and "cheers me up when I feel like shit".

But something happened when he reached Wendy. What Kyle had said affected him. His mind went blank after "pretty", and he couldn't think of anything else. Absolutely nothing else. What was there to like about Wendy? She was really pretty, and she…

She…

Well, she _did_– No…that was Kyle again…

As this realization slowly began to sink in, it became more and more obvious that there were absolutely no reasons why he liked Wendy other than the fact that she was pretty, and that was incredibly shallow. Not only that, but Wendy would break up with him and date someone else, then when they dumped her she'd come crawling back to him.

Not only was their relationship shallow, but it was _unhealthy_, too.

He took a deep breath and folded up the paper, grabbed the portrait of him and Kyle off his bedside dresser. He took out the back and stared at the words written on the back of the picture.

"_Oh Stan! If only Wendy knew!"_

He grimaced and placed the paper over it, closed it back up, daintily, and put the picture back in its place. He sat there for a moment longer before climbing into bed and hiding himself.

Screw Wendy; what if_ Kyle_ found out? He'd never talk to him again!


	7. Crush

I received a review for the last chapter that said this: "_I kinda feel bad for Stan. He's always made out to be a pussy._"  
And I thought to myself, "Holy crap! I didn't make Stan seem like a total _pussy_, did I!?"

To be honest, I _don't_ think Stan is a pussy; I just think he's a bit more sensitive than most boys. However, everyone in the story sort of views him as one.

A lot like my little brother. He's more like Stan than I'd care to admit, even to the fact that I used to beat up on him all the time until he started crying and all his friends got mad at me. (Like the time I beat him in the head with a rock. -cringe-) However, now he's twice my size and totally kicks my ass when I try anything. (These days it's more rough-housing play on our part, since I'm more of a guy like that. Ha ha.) But yeah, like Stan, my brother has a big heart and cares a lot about living creatures, to the point where he gets really sad when he hears anything about animal abuse and shit.  
Sadly, one of the other reasons I'm making this fic is mainly due to the fact that people grow older and get over themselves as children. I've made amends with my brother, and I thought it'd be charming for there to be a Stan and Shelley amending fic out there. Thus, this popped out. (The _main_ reason why it popped out was because I wanted to write a fic about Shelley actually scoring a boyfriend who doesn't treat her like a total shitbag.)

So yeah, to anyone who thought I made him out to be a total pussy, I'm terribly sorry for that, because I actually think he's more manly than that. It's just that he asked Wendy a question and decided to play the part so that she wouldn't get pissed off at him.

Hopefully this chapter will make up for it. (Although I _do_ see Kyle as being too much like his mother to let _anyone_ be more aggressive than him, if you know what I mean.)

The song for this chapter title is "Crush", by Jimmy Eat World. I think the mood's more fitting than the actual lyrics, even though those are fairly telling, too.

Oh yes, and in this, I bring up a lot of touchy subjects involving the term "faggot" and shit. I personally think that gay people can call themselves that all they want. Like Stan in this story, I think there's a big difference between calling someone a faggot playfully and someone calling someone that to be condescending. My best friend's a flaming dyke, so I call her a dyke all the time and we joke about it a lot. I guess it depends on who you talk to, really. Or where you live. I know where I live, people aren't as anal about shit like that. We're all laid-back here. -takes a blast from a reefer- Yep. We're all _cool_... (Ha ha. I hate the smell of pot.)  
Oh yeah, and as for that asexual shit: It's totally true. Some people really don't have any interest in shit like that, either for personal _preferences_, or for actual hormonal imbalances that cause them to not get sexually aroused. -shrugs- I actually find the subject interesting. And then there are the asexuals that are simply late bloomers (like me) and therefore just don't really go out and make an effort to figure out what their sexual preference really is. (Actually, I consider myself straight, I simply just don't see myself, or really care to be, for that matter, in a relationship with anyone.)  
There's a wikipedia article on it, if you're interested.

With that said, enjoy this chapter.

* * *

**"Crush"  
**_Chapter Seven_

The next day, Stan was in a major tizzy. He forced himself to stare out the window, rather than speak to any of his friends on the way to school, riding with Shelley. Not only that, but Kyle was acting weird, too. He was yelling at Cartman more often, and on more than one occasion he told Kenny to shut the hell up. It was like his best friend had become his sister.

In class he couldn't concentrate, and so, finally, he nearly exploded during lunch. He was sitting by himself, like usual, and Kyle walked up and sat down by him, getting there later than he did.

"Hey, dude…"

Stan turned his head and gave him a sort of half-pout. Kyle took one look at him and rolled his eyes. However, he couldn't ignore the fact that Stan seemed to become too involved with his food when Wendy walked by. Usually he stared at her, drooling, until she passed by. That wasn't the case today, apparently.

He leaned over towards Stan, put a hand on his shoulder so that he could keep it between just the two of them. "Dude, did something happen between you and Wendy?"

Stan jerked back and slapped the Jew's hand away. "Dude, don't touch me!"

Kyle frowned, eyed him strangely. "Stan…are you okay? You're not acting normal. There's definitely something bothering you…"

Stan groaned and turned back to the mashed potatoes, poked at them with his fork a little. "Dude…" He simply trailed off, letting that simple word express how bad he felt.

After a moment, Kyle sighed and placed a hand on his best friend's shoulder again, cautiously; Stan didn't jerk back again, so he figured Stan was a little bit better now. His tone also expressed he knew how the dark-haired boy felt. "Dude."

Stan looked over at him, turned slightly pink. Kyle was so close–within _kissing_ range, even. They were so damn close, and if he fucked up their friendship, he wouldn't be able to mend it again. He was a complete wreck, and it was bad enough he hadn't been able to sleep the night before…

After a moment, the two remaining middle-school Goth kids wafted past, snickering at how close Stan and his friend were. Kyle just glared and flipped them off, then turned back to Stan. "Stan…" Stan looked up at him, puzzled, waiting for him to continue. Kyle did, giving him a _look_. "Can we skip the last two periods of the day…? I…need someone to talk to…"

Stan's cheeks turned red, but he still tried not to show anything other than indifference. What the hell could Kyle want to talk about? It must've been serious if he wanted to skip classes. His mother would kill him if she ever found out… He smiled lightly, taking a few quick deep breaths and grabbing his water bottle, taking a big gulp. "Sure; no problem, dude."

–––––––––––––––

"Hey, Sparky! I'm home, you little faggot!"

Kyle glanced over at his friend and raised a brow, ignoring the sound of the dog barking as it came bounding down the steps. "Stan, I've been meaning to ask…why do you call Sparky a faggot? Isn't that a bit rude?"

Stan laughed as Sparky went straight for his friend's legs, eager to get a little bit of action this afternoon. "Well, it's true, right? He _is_ a faggot. 'Sides, it's mainly just a term of endearment on my part. Not sure about Shelley, though."

Kyle nudged at the dog that was trying to hump his leg. He gave a strained smile. "Yeah, well…how would you feel if someone called _you_ a faggot?"

Stan glanced at his friend for a bit, pondering the notion, and Kyle turned back to nudge Sparky away from him, pushing him away with his foot. Stan reached down and pinched Sparky's ear. "Sparky, no! Go bug the neighbor's dog or something! You know he's been watching you through the fence!"

Sparky, knowing that was a sign to stop, decided to follow that idea and ran to the kitchen, dashing out the doggie door. A fairly short time afterwards the neighbor's dog began yelping.

Kyle burst out laughing and Stan waved his hand. "Nah, dude. I wouldn't care if someone called me a faggot. A-After all, I know I'm not, so it's not that big of a deal."

Kyle looked back over and held his finger up. "Yes, but what if you _were_? Wouldn't you feel bad?"

Stan grinned, but inside he felt his stomach churning. Shit, did Kyle _know_ already? He hadn't even done anything; he hadn't even acted remotely gay! Had he?? Maybe he did and didn't realize it. "Nope. Not if it was a term of endearment. That gives it a whole new meaning, doesn't it?"

Kyle eyed him strangely, running his hand through his curly mop of flaming red hair. "Well, what if me or Kenny were gay? You're saying you'd call either of us faggots? You wouldn't feel bad about it?"

Stan shook his head and walked into the kitchen. He burst out laughing and dropped his backpack onto the floor. He was nervous, and hoped it didn't show in his laugh. "You or Kenny, _gay_!? _Kenny_, the guy that stares at boobs long enough to make a living out of it?? _You_, who I've known for forever? You liked that home-school girl in elementary school! I don't really know how to answer your question, 'cause I can't see either of you guys being gay."

Kyle smiled and dropped his bag by the couch, walking into the kitchen. "You should've used 'whom'…"

"What? 'Whom'?_Where_?"

Kyle laughed. "You said, 'You, who I've known for forever,' dude. That should be, '**whom** I've known for forever,' right?"

Stan wrinkled his nose. "Whatever, dude. I don't give a shit about stuff like that. Only you would really care. Besides, I thought 'whom' was only used when 'who' came at the end of a sentence…"

Kyle turned red and looked around the room, thinking. After a moment, he cursed. "Shit. You know I'm better with numbers than grammar, dude… Whatever…" He looked off to the side, upset that he'd been wrong.

To calm himself down, Stan bent down and began to rummage through the fridge for nothing in particular. After a few moments, a shadow passed over him and Kyle leaned onto his back.

"What are you looking for, dude?"

Stan jumped, tossing Kyle off of him in the process. He placed a hand over his heart and took big, gasping breaths as he spun around and glared at his friend. "Dude! Don't…Don't sneak up on me like that! I…" He trailed off, thinking up an excuse. Kyle simply stared at him, knowing something was wrong but not what. "It's just…Shelley hasn't attacked me lately, so I've become a little paranoid…"

Score! That was a great lie, right there!

Kyle smirked. "That's okay, dude. Just relax. Shelley's nowhere around, so you've got nothing to worry about. It's just me and you, dude. I'm not going to attack you."

Stan laughed and nodded his head. "Yeah, I know." Of course, he wasn't concerned with Kyle _attacking him_; he was concerned about Kyle _being attacked by __**him**_. And, like Kyle said, it was just him and Kyle: all alone; in a big house; with the neighbors gone at work or whatever…

Kyle walked out of the kitchen, waving his hand a little. "Whatever, dude. I'm going to be in your room looking up shit on the internet."

Shit. The picture! Now that list he'd made was in it! What if Kyle picked it up and looked at it to have a laugh again?? He'd find the list, and then he'd know he was in mental anguish over who he was more in love with–his girlfriend or his best friend!

Stan walked out as well, right behind him. "W-Wait… The internet? D-Didn't you say you needed someone to talk to?"

Kyle glanced back at him, eyes smoldering with some sort of emotion he couldn't quite place. Stan blinked, took a small step down a step. Kyle grabbed his hand and pulled him up the steps, determined. "Yeah, but I feel safer in your room, dude…"

Stan gulped, trying to keep his hand from getting all sweaty. That would definitely make things awkward.

When they got to his room, Kyle sat down on the bed, staring at his thumbs which were folded neatly, elbows resting on his knees. Stan walked over hesitantly and sat down next to him. Kyle was silent for a good two minutes before he said anything, the time in between being so tense Stan swore he could have cut the tension with a knife.

Kyle's words were quiet and mumbled.

"Dude, I don't think I like girls."

For a moment, Stan just sat there, feeling the hair on the back of his neck stand up. Finally he jumped up, taking a few steps back from the bed. "Dude! Don't you fucking dare say what I think you're going to say!!"

Kyle's eyes darted over to his face, saw his expression. His jaw dropped as the implications of his words suddenly smacked him in the face. He also stood up, held his hands up in surrender. "D-Dude! No, no, no! That's not it at all! Dude, let me finish! I was trying to say I think I'm asexual or something!"

Stan stopped and stared at him for a while. He gasped. "Oh my _God_! All this time–!?" He looked down at Kyle's crotch, jaws dropped. "You're a…"

Kyle groaned and crossed his arms over his chest. "No, dude! _Asexual_, not hermaphrodite! An asexual is someone who doesn't find anything attractive! I'm saying that I don't find girls attractive, but I don't find _guys_ attractive, either!"

Stan stopped and gave him an incredulous look. "How could…How could you not be attracted to either!? That's like, the opposite of bi, dude! What the fuck?? …A-Are you sure?"

Kyle rubbed his arm and twisted his mouth in a weird pucker shape, showing that he was clearly unsure. He shook his head and turned bright red. "N-No… Because…I just…haven't ever…you know, hooked up, with anyone before. I mean, you've had Wendy, so you know you're attracted to girls, but I only had that home-school girl, and that changed when she became a total slut… Plus, I was only _eight_ at the time…"

Stan stood there for a moment, feeling his heart pound in his chest. If he…If he was really selfish right now–and he knew he _totally_ was right now–, he could try it out with that hot piece of ass without Kyle ever having to know he had feelings for him… He just had to know how to approach it. But how? With a te–

That was it! With a test!

He walked over to the bed and sat down. "Well, how about we test it out?"

Kyle sat down and stared at him, puzzled. "What the hell? Where are we going to find anyone, male or female, willing to kiss me? And don't say Kenny, or Butters dressed as a girl, because that's just fucking sick, dude."

Stan pointed at himself with his thumb, frowning lightly and trying to keep his composure steady. "That's easy, dude. Just close your eyes, and I'll kiss you twice. On the first try, imagine I'm a boy, and on the second just imagine I'm a girl. All I'll have to do would be to imagine you as Wendy, and it wouldn't bother me at all…"

Kyle stared at him for a moment, then his jaw dropped. "Dude!"

Stan rolled his eyes, tried to keep his voice steady, still. "Dude…do you want to know or not?"

"W-Well, yeah! But…but you'd _really_ be willing to kiss me?"

Stan frowned, kept his voice steady. "No, dude! I'm going to imagine that I'm kissing Wendy! That way, it won't be so awkward for me and you'll still get your answers!" Perfect! This way, he could also figure out whether he was more attracted to Kyle or Wendy at the same time! It would be killing two birds with one stone!

After a moment, Kyle turned red, cleared his throat. "O-Okay, dude. But if any of this leaks out to fatass, you're fucking dead."

Stan rolled his eyes. "Like I'd want him to know I was willing to do this for you… I'd get just as much shit as you, if not _more_, for offering to do it in the first place. Just think of this as thanks for sticking up for me with Shelley the other day, okay?"

Kyle nodded and closed his eyes. "Okay, just as long as you promise this won't leave the room…"

Stan reiterated that he wouldn't, then swallowed the lump in his throat. He glanced at Kyle, stared at how the Jew looked almost peaceful for once with his eyes closed, stared at how his mouth was slightly parted in waiting for a pair of lips to meet them. He swallowed again, closed his eyes, and thought of Wendy.

He didn't kiss Wendy that often, actually. He usually just gave her a quick peck on the lips; he was always too shy to try anything else. He leaned in, gave Kyle-Wendy a quick peck on the lips.

He pulled back just as quickly and opened his eyes. Kyle was staring at him like he was a total pussy. Stan raised his eyebrow. "So, you were thinking of a guy, right?" Kyle nodded, and Stan continued. "Well, d-did you feel anything…?"

Kyle just shook his head, and a little part of Stan cheered while the rest of him felt slightly disappointed. So he didn't like guys? Well, that sucked… But…maybe he really liked girls, so it wouldn't matter that he had these temporary feelings for Kyle…

Kyle closed his eyes. "Okay, a girl this time…"

Stan nodded and stared at Kyle again, noting that Kyle was blushing slightly. Whoever he was imagining must've been really cute… But enough about who Kyle was imagining; now Stan had to kiss him like normal, to see if he was attracted to Kyle at least even a small amount.

He swallowed the lump in his throat again and leaned in, pressed his lips against his best friend's. In an instant, it was like an electric current went zipping through his body, giving him chills. He deepened the kiss, grabbing onto Kyle's shoulders firmly.

His kisses became more passionate, and soon he'd knocked Kyle flat onto the bed. Kyle pushed on his shoulders slightly, but that didn't stop him at all. When the redhead's lips parted to try and tell him to get off, Stan slipped his tongue in. Kyle didn't resist much after that, and the next few moments they spent indulging in the other's taste.

Finally, Stan pulled back, gasping for air. Kyle coughed and sat up, pushing Stan away. His face was bright red, and Stan was sure it matched his own. Kyle made a face and shook his head. "Dude! If a girl got _that_ aggressive with me, I'd kick her in the fucking cooch! Damn, Stan! I didn't think you and Wendy had that type of relationship!"

Stan turned bright red and laughed a little. "Well, you know… W-We don't…but since I was just imagining it, I kinda…found the courage to try it out… And…also, she wasn't here to tell me to stop being a pervert…" He laughed weakly and Kyle took a few more moments to catch his breath.

Stan glanced at him, hesitant. "Well…? Do you think you like girls…?"

Kyle shook his head. "Like I said, if she got that aggressive with me, I'd kick her ass. Aggressive girls remind me too much of my _mom_, dude." After a while– "…L-Let's never do this again; okay, Stan?"

Stan nodded, and Kyle stood up, stumbling out the door. "Dude, I better get home, now that I talked about it with someone… Besides…if my mom finds out I was skipping, she'd kill me…"

Stan watched him go, but didn't feel any better. He sighed and looked down at the crotch of his pants, which was now tighter on him than it was before. "God damn it!" He glared and glanced over at the picture on his bedside dresser.

After a moment, he grabbed it and got the list, unfolded the paper. He grabbed the pen and made sure to add "good kisser" under the last reason. He glared and closed it back up, not even caring how good of a job he did.

* * *

Shelley assumes her role as main character in the next chapter. O: 


	8. Admit It!

I really enjoyed this chapter. I was up until twelve o'clock writing this, and I enjoyed every freakin' minute of it.

Yeah, there's a lot in the chapter that some people might be confused about, mainly the whole, "Why the hell is the Goth kid listening to shit like that?" question. But trust me on this: it will all be revealed to you when the time is right. However, I will say this: Here's the order of songs on the CD he's listening to:  
1) _You Are the One_ by Shiny Toy Guns  
2) _Good Enough_ by Evanescence  
3) _Admit It!_ by Say Anything  
4) _Changes_ by David Bowie  
5) _Tearing Apart_ by Siouxsie and the Banshees  
6) _I Hate Everything About You_ by Three Days Grace  
7) _Breath_ by Breaking Benjamin  
8) _Carry You_ by Jimmy Eat World  
9) _If You Leave_ by OMD  
10) _Release_ by Tea Party  
11) _Every Breath You Take_ by The Police  
12) _Forever_ by Siouxsie and the Banshees

I seriously suggest you go listen to Admit It! because the lyrics are probably the most amazingly telling lyrics regarding how I view Goth kids. That's the song this chapter is named after, by the way.

I think it's important to note that this chapter takes place on the same day as the last chapter.

Anyways, enjoy. :3

* * *

**"Admit It!"**  
_Chapter Eight_

Shelley groaned and woke up, looked at herself in the mirror as she headed into the bathroom for a shower. For some strange, odd reason she felt the uncanny urge to outline her eyes in heavy black eyeliner. She sneered, glaring down at her feet. There was no way in _hell_ she'd change for a _boy_. She was _above_ that. Not only that, but she was above changing for a _Goth_ kid.

"Honestly…what is so great about him, anyway…?"

She groaned and took a shower, blow-dried her hair angrily. It turned out a mess, but she could have cared less. She could have cared less if her hair looked like it poofed out shaggily two inches from her head. She grimaced, but decided _not_ to pull it back. After all the attention on how great she looked the day before yesterday, all she wanted to do was fade into the background.

Popping in an Iron Maiden CD, she grumbled and closed the door to her room, heading to the closet. No shorts today; no zebra-print stockings today… _Well_… Her hair _was_ looking like something out of an 80's glam-rock music video. A small smile graced her lips and she rummaged through her closet, pulling out all of her retro clothes.

No one would touch her with a forty-foot pole if she looked like something straight from a cheesed-up 80's movie.

"I know I have _some_ spandex in here…but where the hell is it?"

––––––––––––

The way to school was hell; the stupid Broflovski kid was yelling at everyone, and her brother was looking out the window morosely. As much as she hated to admit it, something about the whole thing seemed sad. There he was in the back seat, glancing out the window as if Wendy had dumped him again. He looked downright miserable.

Something stirred in her, and she made a mental note to pick up something for him on the way home from school. Sure, she enjoyed beating him up as much as the next guy, but he was her _brother_. He was supposed to be annoying her by being loud, _not_ by being a sad sack.

When they arrived at the middle school, her brother's friends filed out the car with Stan being the last to go. Shelley watched him for a moment and then leaned over the empty passenger's seat, rolling down the window. "Stan…"

He turned around and stared at her blankly, causing a chill to run down her spine; he looked like he was going through that damn Goth phase all over again. He mumbled, "Yeah. What is it?"

After a moment she sighed and shook her head–"Nevermind."–then sat back in her seat. Stan walked off, and she stared at him going into the building for a while. Kyle was glancing over at him every once in a while, looking like he wanted to ask him if something was wrong. But he never did, and the two walked into the building. Shelley sighed and brushed the hair from her eyes, hit the gas pedal and drove out of the circle.

She could deal with it when she got back home.

–––––––––––

As she pulled into the high school parking lot, she noticed the black Cadillac all by itself, the closest to the building it could possibly be while still being in a parking spot. She blinked, glanced at the clock in her car which read 7:54. What the hell was Nicholas doing at school so early in the morning? He didn't usually get here this early; he wasn't here this early yesterday.

She parked her car in one of the spaces a open–a few rows down, since all of the over-achievers who had gotten there before her had taken up all of the spaces around his car–and got out, walking over to the Cadillac.

As she approached, she noticed he was in the back seat all scrunched up with his head lying against the window and his legs in the other seats, knees up in the air since he was too tall for that cramped space. His eyes were closed; it looked like he was sleeping. It also looked as if he'd cleaned up all the trash off the floor–or, at the very least, shoved it into the trunk–, because there wasn't a single article of trash in the car.

There was music playing, very faintly, but she recognized it. She'd heard her brother playing it, of course.

"_You take the breath right out of me.  
You left a hole where my heart should be.  
You got to fight just to make it through,  
'cause I will be the death of you._"

The song ended with a strum on the guitar, fading in and out like some kind of crippling feedback. It was painful on her ears, made her insides contort. "_Oh, dear God,_" she thought. "_Breaking Benjamin? He said he wasn't a fag like my brother. What the shit? That's totally chick music._"

The song ended, and another song began playing. It wasn't much better: Fucking _Jimmy Eat World_. She knew this song well; her brother played this very song over and over and over again whenever Wendy decided to break up with him for a week or so.

"_And I know I'm all alone.  
Say your name slowly.  
And I know that I'm alone,  
But I'll carry you._"

She opened the door to the passenger's seat–which was unlocked, surprisingly–and sat down, closing it behind her and glancing back at him. He must really have been asleep, because he didn't even move. As she watched him, a smile slowly formed on her face. He looked completely at ease, completely calm, almost innocent for once. It was a stark contrast to that angry, anal-retentive personality he had up while conscious. His mouth twisted into a pout, and Shelley suddenly became conscious of the song playing.

"_Maybe your life is what I need sometimes;  
You took the most and best of anyone.  
You said to "keep me in your pocket,"  
So I carried you._"

Shelley turned back to the music and glared. It was making him feel uncomfortable while he was sleeping peacefully. "Shut the goddamn music off, for crying out loud. Either that or stop listening to music that makes you feel like shit," she muttered. She reached over and pushed the button, shutting the music off.

Immediately he sat up and blinked, suddenly became aware she was there. His jaw dropped, and he turned slightly pink, bringing his knees to his chest. "W-What the hell are you doing in my car?" He glanced at how she was dressed and put a hand over his mouth, hiding a smile.

He chuckled. "Oh my sweet Jesus… Are you out of your fucking mind?" Shelley glared, but he continued. "You _do_ know how ridiculous you look, don't you?"

Shelley glared and pouted, looking away. "Look, fishie; maybe you're not old enough to understand, but on Monday I was pissed off because people were giving me too much attention. I decided I might as well give them something they'd find so atrocious that they wouldn't even mention it to me, okay? I hate being the center of the school's fucking attention…"

Something flickered in his eyes, and she glanced back at him angrily, her eyes locking on to his smoldering gaze. She shifted, suddenly uncomfortable, but couldn't break free from that look. "W-What?? What the fuck are you looking at??"

A shadow passed over his car, and Nicholas turned his head up, glared. Shelley turned and caught sight of Kevin staring at her, dumbstruck. As shocked and surprised and hurt he looked, she could see the absolute attraction radiating from his eyes at her get-up. And why wouldn't he? She looked like someone straight out of a Twisted Sister concert.

The school bell rang and Kevin glanced back at the school, then back at her, taking a step off the sidewalk. Shelley muttered a swear word, and almost instantly Nicholas grabbed her shoulder, spinning her around. She glanced back at Kevin for a moment, but Nicholas shook her again, making her look at him.

He grumbled something about her cleaning up his car and crushed his lips against hers. It caught her off guard, being more passionate than she expected. After a long moment he pulled away. Shelley felt a surge of vomit come up in her throat, but she grabbed her mouth and swallowed it.

To her good fortune, she caught sight of Kevin turning the corner to the school, looking very red in the face. She turned to Nicholas and gave him a thumbs-up, blushed beet red. "Th-Thanks again…b-but you didn't have to do that…"

He shifted a little, resting his back against the back window, and glanced away. "…I need a smoke…" He glanced back at Shelley, avoiding her eyes, and pointed at the window. "Crack that window open a little…" She did, and he pulled out a pack of Parliaments, flipped out a lighter and lit up.

They were quiet for a long moment, in absolute silence save for the occasional inhale and exhale from Nicholas smoking, and finally he looked her in the eye. "Dressing like that was a very bad idea…"

Shelley sneered and looked away. "Why?"

Nicholas took a drag, exhaled a puff of smoke in a ring. "By dressing yourself like that, all you did was succeed in having people laugh at you. The second you step into class like that, people will be jeering you and laughing their fucking heads off."

Shelley grimaced. "So? It's better than them telling me how I look hot and how they want to do me, or ask me where they can buy clothes like that. It's fucking annoying. Negativity I can stand, but it's the flattery that I can't stand. I don't _care_ if people like how I look. I'd rather be left alone…"

Nicholas cocked a grin and straightened himself out in the seat, patting the now-empty seat beside him. "Same here. Why even bother going to school today? Just sit back here with me."

He took another drag and Shelley looked at him, hesitant at first. However, she soon crawled into the back seat, next to him. The back seat was smoky, making her head a bit dizzy, with foggy clouds drifting in the air around her. She sat down and leaned her face against the window, relaxing. After a few minutes something inside her snapped. She glared out the window. "Whatever. I don't care anymore." She glanced over at Nicholas, saw him watching her with that same flickering, smoldering gaze from before.

He took a drag, exhaled. "I like that."

She shook her head and looked away again, making a sound that sounded as if she didn't care, but he took another drag, chuckled. "Don't be like that." She glared at him, and he already knew what she was thinking. He smiled again and leaned over so that his face was close to hers. "I think you _do_ care what I think…"

She stared at him for a moment, felt her heart thumping in her chest, felt his breath brushing against her face, smelling like tobacco and strong, black coffee. He placed his free hand behind her head, leaned down and captured her lips in a kiss. Hesitantly, she drew her hands up to his back, drifting up and up until she had them tangled in his hair. He continued, not seeming to really care whether or not she cared, and that thought was oddly comforting to her.

His kisses sped up, becoming more desperate and she could feel her very blood boiling in every inch of her body. He pulled back, but kept his face close, close enough so that she could still feel his breath against her lips as he took a few breaths. He was practically on top of her now, and he tossed his cigarette onto the floor, not caring whether it was burning into the upholstery on the floor or not.

He went back to her lips, and she received him eagerly. It was completely silent, except for the sounds of their breaths fighting to keep themselves level-headed, though they didn't care to be particularly under control.

They shifted a little, until her feet were sticking into the front seats, and he was straddling her hips. He went in for another kiss and she kicked her leg in a reflex, causing her toes to hit the button for the CD player to turn back on. A few moments passed, and neither of them noticed until a very loud, "Admit it!" erupted from the speakers. They both jumped, and there was a strum on the guitar; instead of singing, rather, the vocalist began a heated, spoken monologue.

"_Despite your pseudo-bohemian appearance and vaguely leftist doctrine of beliefs, you know nothing about art or sex that you couldn't read in any trendy, New York underground fashion magazine… Prototypical non-conformist; you are a _vacuous_ soldier of the thrift store Gestapo._"

He stiffened, his eyes growing wide as he stared down at her. She blinked, opened her mouth to say anything, but nothing came out. The monologue continued.

"_You adhere to a set of standards and tastes that appear to be determined by an unseen panel of hipster judges_–(Bullshit!)–_giving your thumbs-up and thumbs-down to incoming and outgoing trends and styles of music and art. Go analog, baby! You're _so_ post-modern. You're diving face forward into an antiquated past; it's disgusting! It's offensive! Don't stick your nose up at me!_"

The guitar sped up, and finally the vocalist began singing, but Nicholas jolted up almost instantly, whirling around and hitting the entire player with his fist. He let out an enraged, "Fuck you!" and began seething. The music ended with a digital, descending "boooop," and Shelley sat up, staring at him. He clenched his teeth and tangled one of his hands in his hair, looking as if he wanted to cry and kill something all at the same time.

Shelley leaned over, concerned. "Hey…"

He glared at her and ground his teeth again, shutting his eyes tightly. "Just…Just stay out of it! I'm fine, alright!? It's bad enough my mother's pissing me off; I don't need _you_ to give me any of this shit!"

She reached a hand out, but he slapped it away, retreating to the front seat…away from her. He laughed bitterly, then grew really quiet. It was obvious he was miserable about everything going on right now. After a moment, Shelley cleared her throat and sat back down in the chair, pulled her shirt down and fixed her hair somewhat. It probably had something to do with Henrietta. After all, he and his friends certainly seemed to have had a falling out with the now ex-Goth chick that day she had kicked Stan and Kyle out of her car.

"You should talk about it."

He glanced back at her with every malicious intent in his eyes until something inside him seemed to die. He sighed, reached into his pocket for another cigarette. "You're probably right…but that's what my friends are for."

Shelley rolled her eyes. "Maybe it's time to talk about it with someone _out_side your group of friends. I won't simply agree with you, you know. You helped me out when I ranted about Kevin two days ago. I think it's about time I return the favor…"

After a moment he looked out the window and spoke, his voice quiet and almost…scared? Hell, she couldn't really _blame_ him; after all, he didn't seem like the type to trust _anyone_. "Yeah, well you don't know what it's like having your mother dating other men just because your father decided to get a divorce when you were little. Every month I have to visit him for a weekend, and every once in a while her boyfriend will get fed up with me and she'll choose him over me. She'll ship me off to my father's house, and I'll get harassed by my step-sister for wearing dark clothes and shit. It…" He trailed off before glaring. "I seriously wish that bastard would die. I fucking hate him. I fucking hate _her_, too…"

He muttered.

"…What gives her the right to think she can just abandon us? Abandon _me_? She_ knows_ how fragile I am and how much I _need_ my friends…"

He seemed to be talking about Henrietta then, and Shelley wasn't quite sure when he had changed the subject–after saying how he hated his father or after saying how he hated his mother.

After a short pause, he glanced back at her in the back seat, debated with himself mentally and climbed back in the seat next to her. He took a drag from his cigarette, letting the air in the back seat become smoky, and looked out the window awkwardly, letting his cheeks turn slightly pink. For a moment they sat there in silence, him looking over at her every once in a while, shyly, hesitantly, uncomfortably. But the silence wasn't awkward, just the subject of what he had been talking about before.

After a while, she propped her cheek in her hand and glanced out the window. "Don't tell anyone this, because no one really knew about it besides my brother's friends' parents and our own family, but my dad divorced my mother when Stan was in the third grade. It really only lasted a week, and my parents fell back in love and got back together again, but ever since then the relationship's been a bit more strained than it was before…" She closed her eyes and sighed. "Stan was too young at the time to really notice, but I could tell–I _still_ can tell–that their relationship was different after they got back together again…"

After a short moment she turned back to Nicholas, surprised to see him staring at her with a somewhat confused expression. "You're fucking kidding me."

Shelley grinned and shook her head. "Nope. I don't joke about shit like that. I can't_ really_ say they got _divorced_, since their papers never ended up going through the final legal stage, but they _did_ come close… So yeah; don't think you're the only unlucky fuck who's had to go through that."

He was quiet for a little bit longer before he scooted closer to her and glanced away awkwardly. "After school lets out…do you want to… Do you want me to pick you up and we can go hang out with my friends…? It wouldn't be, like, a date or anything…but we could hang out at this coffee shop Peter discovered two weeks ago. You'd like it…there's quite a few characters there… It'll be…It'll be fun…or something…"

She glared at him for a moment, then put a hand on his cheek, turning his face toward her, and kissed him. "_Don't_ think I'm going to make a habit out of hanging out with you faggy shits. But sure, I suppose I could go for getting out of the house. It beats having to listen to my parents prattle on about meaningless shit at the dinner table. Pick me up at six or so."

–––––––––––––

They sat there in silence until thirty minutes before the middle school let out. Shelley got out and said good-bye, then got in her car and decided to be nice today. She went to Wendells Burgers and got Stan's favorite meal, then went back home.

To her surprise, when she reached the front door, Kyle walked out with his bag. His face was red, and he was glaring at the ground, completely unaware she was there. As he passed her, she could hear him mumbling.

"She'd kill me. She'd fucking kill me; I just know it…"

Shelley glanced back at him, raised her hand, quirking a brow. "Broflovski?"

Kyle spun around, eyes wide, and he jumped. "S-Stay out of it! It's none of your business!" He dashed away, his face turning as red as his hair as he reached the sidewalk, and she chocked it up to his Jewish heritage.

She walked into the house, shaking her head angrily. She looked up the stairs, assuming he'd be up in his room. "Stan! Get your ass down here!" After a few moments, Stan glanced down from the stairs. He groaned, sure she was going to pummel him, until he saw what was in her hands.

His eyes widened, and he stalked down the steps hesitantly, unsure if it was a trap or not. She handed him the bag, which was _still_ warm, amazingly, and shrugged her shoulders, walking into the kitchen.

"W-What… Shelley…?"

She grimaced and poked her head out from around the corner, her face red. "Sh-shut up and eat it, turd. I didn't poison it or anything. You just…you just seemed upset this morning and I thought you needed a pick-me-up…"

For a while he just stared at the food, flabbergasted, and then he turned to the kitchen, his voice heavy with gratitude. "Th-Thanks, Shelley. Y-You don't know how much this means to me… I was feeling really shitty, and then…then… Just…Just thanks…"

She shivered and turned her face away, waving her hand a bit more animated than she normally would, her face flushing ever darker. "Y-Yeah, yeah, you little shit. Just eat it and quit making a big fuss. Tomorrow I'm going to treat you like shit, so enjoy it for now and don't piss me off."

He ate it gratefully as she stalked up the steps to her room, to change into something more suitable for a coffee shop.

––––––––––

There was a knock on the door and Shelley dashed to the door; it was almost six, so that meant Nicholas was here. She paused at the door, smoothing down her black skirt and running a hand through her hair. She'd pulled most of it up into a half-bouffant hair-style, much like what one would see at a rockabilly concert. She'd added some glitter to the tops of her cheekbones, directly under her eyes, and she'd outlined her lips with a darker colour of lip-liner. She grinned, making sure to flip open her compact and make sure her make-up was under control–not too dark nor too slutty.

Her face dropped into a scowl when she opened it to find Kevin standing there instead. "What the _hell_ do you want, Kevin?"

For a moment he gaped at her appearance, his eyes flickering with attraction and awe, but he shook his head to concentrate. Apparently he had more concerns than catching a glimpse of her. He held up his hands, knitted his eyebrows together worriedly. "Shell, I need to talk to you. I don't think–"

She glowered. "I don't _care_ what you think, Kevin. You _saw_ us this morning; you _know_ how our relationship is…so just get the hell out of my business and leave me alone, you freakin' maggot."

He hit his fist against the door frame in frustration, practically frantic by this point. "Yes, I _know_, but I've heard things! It's in your best interest to–"

She leaned against the door frame, her stance suggesting she was finally willing to listen for once, so he cut off, waiting for her to ask. She did. "Oh? And _what_ have you heard about him?"

He opened his mouth, but a honk cut him off. She glanced over his shoulder, her face lighting up. It was Nicholas, and just in the nick of time, too–pun intended. Which was great, because she could have cared less what Kevin was going to throw at her to try and win her over to his side. She pushed past him, rushed out to the black Cadillac and hopped into the passenger's seat.

She was introduced to the two middle school Goth kids in the back, ignored their skeptical glances at her appearance. Who gave a fuck what they thought, anyway? Their fashion sense was shit.

At the coffee shop they chatted about a few things, mainly about how much of a fag her brother was and how all he did was piss her off and act like a major pussy. When she returned it was about eleven o'clock, and she knew her parents would give her shit for where she'd been, but she didn't care.

Nicholas had dropped off his friends earlier, knowing their parents were more concerned about where they were since they were much younger than her, then he had taken her home.

She jumped out of the car and Nicholas hopped out, too, making sure to make out with her against the house, by the garage. He hopped back in his car and drove off, his face going back to that same morose, angry-at-the-world look as he did, and she simply waved, brushing him off as quickly as she'd pulled him on.

She stood out there for a while, mentally preparing herself for the bitching sure to come from her parents, and when she finally walked to the front door, an arm reached out from the darkness and grabbed her. She nearly screamed, but managed to choke it back as Kevin's face appeared in front of her, in the gloom.

She pushed on his chest and he let her go, taking a step back. He smiled sheepishly, though it was very hard to see. "S-Sorry, Shell… I didn't mean to scare you…"

She stomped her foot on the ground and put her hands on her hips, glaring venomously at him. "How long were you watching, you fucking pervert!?"

He knitted his brows together, again, and a slightly hurt look passed over his eyes, though that disappeared as quick as it had appeared. He rubbed the back of his neck nervously. "W-Well… It wasn't like I was_ expecting_ you to make out with him…but…I've been watching for a while…" She gave a loud, irritated huff and he shushed her, waving his hands in front of her face. "Shhhh! It-It's not what it seems, alright!? I was just worried about you since it was so late!"

She laughed bitterly and took a step back. "Not what it _seems_!? You were waiting for me in the dark! What's not weird about that, fucking moron?? God, it's like you're stalking me! I'm sick and tired of it! If you _really_ wanted to win me over, you'd leave me the fuck alone!"

He held out his hands for a moment, then drew them back to his mouth hesitantly. "N–" He bit on his fingernails, then kicked his foot against the concrete driveway. "I…I d-do want to win you over…but…but he–"

She waved her finger in his face, hissed him silent. "Shut the hell up about Nicholas! You don't know him; you only know what you hear, so don't give me some lecture on how he's some terrible person! He's way more of a gentleman than you; he doesn't go around waiting for me in the dark, or…or tells everyone I'm his girlfriend just because we're friends! Get a fucking clue, Kevin! I will _never_, **ever** like you! So just give up and go home!"

She spun around and stormed over to the door. His voice rang out in the dark, low and concerned. "Shelley, wait!" He sounded so goddamn depressing, and it broke her heart to walk off, but that was best. They may have been friends before, but they weren't anymore, and he needed to learn that. She ignored him and opened the door to the house, walked inside and stormed up the steps, completely ignoring the questions her parents began demanding.

When she reached her room, she looked out the window, saw Kevin still outside, leaning against the garage door, looking like he was about to start kicking something in frustration. He really _had_ been fun to hang out with, when they were friends, and even now part of her wanted it to go back to the way it was, but her logical side vehemently refused, berating her for letting that emotional side come out.

She glanced at her shelf, at a little figurine of a superhero they'd laughed at years ago; he'd found it on the train tracks and given it to her as a present, and she still had no idea why she had kept it. She went over, picked it up and headed back to the window. She opened the window and looked down at Kevin, who was directly underneath it, ironically. She dropped it onto his head, and poked her head back in her window, taking a deep breath and hoping he hadn't seen her.

––––––––––

Outside, Kevin felt something hit his head and winced, looking down for the blunt object. He picked up a dinky, plastic action figure of the Flash and looked up at the window above him, noticing the light was now on. He opened his mouth to say something, but the realization hit him: She meant it this time. She had thrown his gift to her from all those years ago right back at him. He had kept on pushing and pushing, making her hate him.

"**Fuck!" **

He let out yell with every ounce of agony he possessed and threw the action figure onto the ground, dashing back across the train tracks, back to his house.

All of his efforts _had_ to end now.

It was over.

* * *

The next chapter involves Stan and Henrietta. Be prepared for a seriously fucked up cat fight. 


	9. Kick in the Eye

This was a pain in the ass, even though it was fun. I'm just going to say right now that I've never known a guy who had to struggle with coming out of the closet when he was in a relationship with a girl, but I think it's safe to say Stan's reactions in this are fairly close to the mark. Maybe I'm wrong; I hope I'm not. The real struggle with writing fanfiction, or even stories in general, is that it takes personal experience with all sorts of people in order to make a story realistic, and I just haven't had as much experience as I could have had. Please send me a review if you've ever known someone struggling with the same sort of thing as Stan has, so that I know if it's anywhere close.

(To be honest, I'm also writing a story with my own original characters that deals with this same sort of thing and so it'd really help me out here. My best friend knows guys that have the same things going on in this, so I've asked her and she said it was okay, but it takes all sorts of people with different view points on the matter. Of course, it makes a big difference where you live, and since everything's really laid-back where I live, the same thing doesn't really happen as it would in other places. Although the emotion is still the same, of course.)

Ugh. The fight was also a bitch. It feels longer than a normal fight would be. Of course, since this is South park, I wouldn't be surprised if no one did anything about it for, like, an hour or so.

By the way, the song this chapter is named after is "Kick in the Eye", by Bauhaus. (Huzzah!)

Anyways, enjoy.

* * *

**"Kick in the Eye"**  
_Chapter Nine _

Stan swallowed a lump in his throat and approached Henrietta before school. He'd decided to walk to school, alone, and he knew Henrietta always arrived super early, just to smoke out back. Though she no longer hung out with the other Goth kids, she refused to stop rebelling against the establishment.

She glanced up at him with interest, smiled and patted the spot next to her. He sat down and threw his back pack next to him, hung his head in his hands, which were propped up on his knees. She patted his back and took a drag from her cigarette. "Stan, is everything okay? Usually _I'm_ the one asking you for support…"

Stan glanced at her, then leaned in close, glancing around to make sure the other Goth kids weren't around. Knowing them, they were probably following Henrietta everywhere just to keep an eye on her. Henrietta laughed and waved her hand at the corner of the building, practically reading his mind by the expression on his face. "Don't worry, Stan. Thorne and Peter are total night owls, and they usually get to school thirty minutes late. Go ahead and say it."

He gulped and went ahead with it. "I think I'm in love with Kyle."

The cigarette fell from her glossed lips, and she stared at him, completely thunderstruck. "A-Are you _sure_?? If word gets out– Shit, if my _friends_ find out, they'll spread shit around school and completely ruin you! You better be _sure_ about this!"

Stan moaned, putting his face in his hands and wiping at his cheeks. "Maybe; I don't know! I _did_ realize that the only reason why I like Wendy is the fact that I've liked her or so long! Our relationship isn't healthy; everyone sees it but me! Kyle was saying he thought he was asexual so I kissed him twice so he could imagine me as a guy or a girl and figure out, so I imagined him as himself and as Wendy to kill two birds with one stone! I completely made out with him when I realized_ he_ was the one that turned me on and not Wendy! This fucking sucks, dude! God, what am I supposed to do!?"

Henrietta patted him, gave him a quick hug and rubbed his back a little. "Oh, Stan, don't worry. Just…Just calm down and think about it logically. You've always said you've wanted to marry Wendy, so what makes you change your mind now? Are you sure it's not just hormones or something??"

Stan shook his head, wiping a tear from his eye. "I…I don't know! I'm so confused! It's weird, because I never actually _kissed_ Wendy, and she was always the one to initiate anything! I'm starting to think I've been like this for a while and just never realized it!"

Henrietta grabbed him by the shoulders and pushed him away, causing him to look her in the eye. She nodded her head, sighed. "It's okay, Stan. That sounds like it might be the case…but you shouldn't do anything stupid right away… If you do something stupid, my friends will think something's weird and try to find out what you're hiding. Okay? You have to keep a stiff upper lip and keep your head together, alright?"

Stan sniffled and Henrietta wiped a tear away from his eyes, giving a pout that matched his. He nodded his head slowly and then wiped a few more tears away that she didn't get. "O…Okay. I…I just feel bad about…Wendy… Wh-What should I do? It's agonizing, thinking about staying in a relationship with her when I don't feel anything other than friendship for her …"

Henrietta frowned and patted him on the shoulder. "Stan, I think you should break up with her if it's making you feel bad. After all, _she'd_ break up with you when she felt like she cared more about someone else, so it's only fair you should be able to do the same. Just tell her you care about someone else, alright? You don't have to tell her who, since she'll probably assume it's a girl to begin with."

He wiped at his eyes again, earning another hug from Henrietta, and nodded his head. "O-Okay… I can do that… I _can_…but I don't think I can do it alone…"

Henrietta thought about it for a while, then nodded her head. "I'll be right beside you, okay? You've been helping me so much, so I need to be there for you this time. Okay? I'll be right there at the sidelines, cheering you on!" He nodded gratefully and gave her a hug, finding a little bit of confidence to go through with it.

As he walked off, Henrietta watched him go. She'd have to mentally prepare herself, since she had a feeling the first one Wendy would blame would be her. And if that happened, she'd have to act the part, just to keep anyone from thinking otherwise. Aside from her, there were few others Stan ever hung out with, and those were all guys. If she wanted to help Stan keep his orientation a secret, she'd have to play into the part of the girl he was crushing on.

––––––––––

It happened at lunch.

Stan pulled Wendy off to the side and leaned into her, glancing at Henrietta across the lunchroom. She gave him the thumbs-up and he smiled a little, turning back to Wendy. His smile turned into a frown as he looked at the puzzled look in her eyes.

"W-Wendy…I…" She gave him a queer look, and he blurted it out. "I'm in love with somebody else."

For a moment she just stood there with her mouth hanging open, then she threw his hands out of hers, took a wide step back. "What." It was a statement, and an angry statement at that. He bit his lip and glanced over at Henrietta for support, and Wendy's eyes followed his; she swore and stiffened.

"So…it's the Goth girl… I should have seen it. How she stopped hanging out with her friends and started sitting with you. How long have you two been together?"

He looked up at Wendy, pursed his lips together, searching for an answer. The way she acted, it sounded like she had expected them to be together. Did that mean that all those previous break-ups, before she would break up with him she would already be in a relationship with someone else? He felt an aching in his heart, one that he couldn't quite place. It was hurt on her behalf; it was hurt on behalf of him. He had been completely blind. That's what Kyle had said when he called her a bitch.

She stomped her foot on the ground and pushed him into the wall, glaring. "Answer me, Stan!"

Stan's eyes shot to her and he felt himself go numb. He couldn't speak; he couldn't think of anything! Shit, she was going to figure out everything! About Kyle, about his orientation; and Kyle would be completely disgusted by him!

She laughed bitterly, slapping him in the face, and stormed off, over towards Henrietta. "Maybe the whore will tell me!!" At the slap, the entire cafeteria went silent, suddenly becoming aware that Stan had gotten_ slapped_. By _Wendy_. This development was incredible; those two were always breaking up, but Wendy never slapped him. Stan never broke up with _her_.

Kyle glanced from Wendy, to Stan, then finally to Henrietta. He stood up, suddenly fearing of getting in the middle of a cat fight. This triggered a crowd-in, and everyone turned their heads to Henrietta; all the boys crowded around, making meowing noises and cat calls.

Wendy walked over to the table Henrietta was at, her slip-on heels clicking against the tiles on the cafeteria floor. After she got into the circle of boys, it closed up around her. She slipped her heels off and a collective "Ohhh!" ran through the crowd.

Bebe pushed her way through and stood behind her friend. "Wendy! You want me to kick her ass??" Wendy shook her head and glared at her friend.

"No, this fight is going to be one on one, Bebe. Don't get involved, no matter _what_ happens. Besides…" She turned back to Henrietta and grinned. "I doubt she's athletic enough to even try to fight me. This'll be over quickly. All I have to do is call her a fat pig and it will all be over with."

Henrietta closed her eyes and sighed, standing up. Cartman dropped his food and gasped. "Ah, dude. This is kickass… Awesome…"

Wendy shrugged her shoulder at the ex-Goth chick and pursed her lips. "I _knew_ you'd be trouble the moment Stan met you. How long have you been together with him?"

Henrietta simply shrugged and stepped away from the table, effectively moving the circle away, some kids even stood onto the tables, and it was a wonder Officer Barbrady or any of the teachers had started coming to see what was up. She glanced at Wendy, gave her a snarky smirk. "Shut the hell up, sweetie. I'll hang out with whoever I please. Besides, he wound up meeting me after _you_ had to be a skank and break up with him for Token in elementary…" Her face changed, and she suddenly became angry that Stan had even been attracted to someone who was just using him for pity. It was more irritating than Nicholas's holier-than-thou mentality. "He deserves better than a bitch like you who breaks his heart and then comes running back because no one will date you for longer than a week!"

Wendy opened her mouth, then let out a scream and pounced. She knocked Henrietta to the ground and desperately tried to look for something to grab hold of; Henrietta's hair was too short, and the earrings she usually wore weren't in, as if she'd expected the fight in the first place. She screamed and smacked Henrietta in the face.

Henrietta pushed her off of her and grabbed her by her long hair. Wendy screamed, and Henrietta yanked on it, hard. "Are you surprised!? Unlike you, I know that just removing high heels doesn't work for a fight!" She yanked on Wendy's hair again, causing tears to well up in the other dark-haired girl's eyes. "This is what you get for having long hair! Maybe if you looked more like me he'd like you! Should I cut it all off, huh!?"

She had prepared herself for acting the part, and she knew that using what Wendy believed against her would keep any rumors of Stan being gay from popping up, even _if_ Wendy began telling her friends how he never touched her.

––––––––––

On the other side of the lunch room, Peter looked up from his food and stood, suddenly aware there was a crowd forming. "Shit, Thorne. Did you hear that?? That was Henrietta!" He dashed off towards the crowd, eager to defend her even if she _had_ been acting like a bitch to them.

Thorne stood up, straining his ears over the shouts and hollering, too. After a moment, he heard Henrietta say something about surprises, and muttered a swear, dashing off after Peter. He pushed his way through the crowd, finding Henrietta holding Wendy by her long black hair. He arrived just in time to hear her ask the bitch if she should cut all of her hair off.

He whipped out his pocket knife and stumbled into the clearing, waving it around to keep the others away from him. Peter soon joined his side, using their shying away from the knife to get through. Thorne grinned widely, letting out a yell into the fray. "Hey, Henrietta, I have a knife if you want to use it to cut her hair off! Show that preppy bitch a thing or two!!"

Henrietta jerked her head over, noticed him and screamed. "You idiot! Get out of here! I can handle–"

Wendy whipped her arms into Henrietta's face, causing her to let go and stop yelling. She pushed into her, slapping her in the face again. She turned to Thorne, noticed the knife, then swallowed all fear and glared at Henrietta. "Oh, I see how it is! Is this how you freaks fight!? Do you fight dirty!? I can fight dirty, too, you know!"

She looked over at Bebe quickly and nodded; Bebe stepped forward, away from the crowd. She ran over to where Wendy and Henrietta were wrestling on the ground. She, having been a tomboy and was wearing sneakers in the first, didn't need to prepare herself at all and kicked Henrietta in the face.

"How do you like that, you whore!?"

Much to her surprise, the littlest Goth tackled her to the ground, eyes livid with protective rage. "Leave Henrietta alone, you ugly blonde bimbo!"

Thorne stood there in the middle, watching them, waiting for Henrietta to tell him he could use his knife; he may have been reckless and vindictive, but he wasn't stupid. Bebe kicked Peter off of her easily, because he was so much younger than her–by four years, in fact–and Henrietta managed to shove Wendy off of her. Bebe stood up and kicked Peter against the ground, shouting at him for calling her ugly.

Henrietta saw the attack on the baby of her previous group of friends and knocked Bebe to the ground, blind with rage by now. "Don't you fucking touch him, bitch! You fucking hurt him and I'll kill you, I _swear_!" She thrashed Bebe around a few times, and Wendy grabbed her head from behind.

Taking this as a sign to get his ass moving, Thorne grabbed Wendy by the hair, pulled her over toward him. She thrashed and screamed in pain, but he ignored it. He wrapped her hair around his hand, getting her face closer, more controlled. He showed her the knife, and all sense of confidence left her.

"Wh-What the fuck do you think you're doing!? You'll be sent to jail, you fucking idiot!!"

Thorne glared and took a swipe, causing her to scream. She fell to the ground, and he threw her now-chopped off hair onto her, untangling it from his hands. She screamed, not yet realizing that he hadn't drawn blood.

Henrietta stood up from a now-bloody Bebe and stumbled into Thorne, suddenly weak from the injuries she'd sustained. It was safe to say the fight was over, but that wasn't the problem. She noticed the hair on the ground and swore, pushing herself away from Thorne. "You idiot! Get the fuck out of here, you two!!"

Peter stood up and limped over to her, frowned. A few teachers began pushing their way through the crowd and Henrietta slapped the two boys that had been in her group of friends at one point. "I didn't need your help! Get the fuck out of here! Stop associating with me!!"

Peter began to cry. "B-But we still care about you, Henrietta!!" Thorne nodded, having been looking to the side. He rubbed his cheek, where she'd slapped him.

Henrietta was grabbed from behind by a teacher and she spat at them. "You just don't _get_ it, do you!?"

Wendy stood up and pushed at Thorne, effectively getting a cut across the cheek from his pocket knife. "You fucking losers! Maybe she stopped hanging out with you because you're all a bunch of mopey fuckheads! Go back to hell where you belong!!"

Thorne glared and grabbed her, but a teacher grabbed him from behind. Tears welled up in his eyes. "It's _Stan's_ fault! It _is_! It's not us! She cares about us! It's all you and your boyfriend's fault!!"

He struggled, but Henrietta gave herself up to the teachers, having fulfilled her goal, and glared at Thorne. Even though she'd fulfilled making Stan look straight, she had still failed at getting Thorne and Peter to see the light of reason. Anger welled up in her and she screamed at him, screamed at his blindness and darkness and at how much she till wanted him and Peter to stay with her. "Yes, it _is_ your fault! Nicky and you and Peter are sacks of shit now! I can't bear it anymore!! Get a fucking clue! I hate being with you! You make me sick!"

The teachers began dragging all of the people involved to the office, and as Henrietta passed by Stan she gave him a hurt smile. Stan stared at her, bit his lip and glanced at the Goth kids. Thorne and Peter glared at him, and Thorne struggled to go beat him up, but he was soon stopped.

The crowd dispersed, and some of the guys went over to Stan. Clyde whistled. "Damn, Stan! You actually got a bunch of bitches to fight over you! Nice!"

Craig threw his fist up in the air and laughed. "Yeah, those stupid Goth kids were fucking pissed at you, man! I've never seen Wendy look so fucking sexy! And that Henrietta chick?? You sure know who to go after; she fucking kicked Bebe's ass!"

Stan bit his lip and could find nothing good with the situation at all. The way Henrietta had yelled at her friends, it made it seem more like she wanted nothing more to do with them than for them to stop hanging out with Nicholas and his bad influence. Everything was going to hell; nothing was good; it was enough to make him feel depressed all over again.

Tears welled up in his eyes and Kyle shoved some of the guys away from Stan, yelled at Cartman to get his fat ass away, to get the other guys away. For once, Cartman seemed to show some obedience and got them all to disperse; however, he seemed more upset by the fact that Wendy had completely lost, not by the fact that Stan was suffering from all the attention.

–––––––––––

Kyle dragged Stan away from the cafeteria, carrying both of their backpacks at the same time. He dragged his friend out to the back of the school, where Stan had made his confession to Henrietta just hours earlier.

Stan sank to the ground, burst into tears. Everything was so goddamn hopeless; how was he supposed to fix this!?

Kyle sat down and wrapped an arm around his shoulders. "Dude…just let it all out, dude. It wasn't your fault. Wendy was a total bitch to you; you had every right to break up with her. It's okay, Stan."

Stan moaned, sobbing and crying. He turned into Kyle's chest and sobbed like a baby, not even caring how gay he looked right now. "I know, K-Kyle…but Henrietta and the Goth kids… They think she hates them now… They don't see what she's trying to make them see at all… It's all my fault… _I_ made Henrietta do this, dude… _**Me**_…"

Kyle frowned and patted Stan on the back, turned red, trying to find something to say to that. "You didn't make Henrietta do anything, dude. She fought back on her own. You didn't ask her to prove herself to you. It's okay, Stan…"

Stan sniffled, but didn't feel any better. How was he supposed to tell Kyle he didn't feel about Henrietta that way? That Henrietta felt nothing but friendship for him, too? That Henrietta was trying to play into the good two-timing girlfriend act and prove to the _school_ that Stan was straight? That she was doing it so no one would find out he had feelings for his _best friend_?? He couldn't say anything like that to Kyle. He couldn't say anything at all.

All he could do at the moment was cry, and that's exactly what he did.

* * *

You'll have to bear with me in the next chapter. The next chapter deals more with the Goth kids, and Nicholas especially, but since every branching-off plot contributes to the fic as a whole, it's absolutely necessary for the story. 


	10. We're Going Wrong

"No, you didn't offend me. I'm terribly sorry if it seemed that way, as I'm sure I probably made quite a fuss about it." is what I would have written back to the sender, if the review wasn't anonymous.

To all of you who have no clue what I'm talking about, you may ignore it. It's not directed at any of you. Anonymous senders always leave me in a tizzy, especially if they give me really delightful reviews. It makes me feel like I'm a rude person by not being able to send them a nice reply. (Ha ha. That's probably just me, though.)

But in all honesty, it's impossible for me to get offended by reviews. I'm just too laid-back and polite to get offended. Now, if someone were to send me a review that said something to the effect of "You're a worthless human being. Go jump off a cliff and kill yourself." I'd be a little bit offended. Of course, then I'd simply laugh it off and send them a reply to the effect of, "Sorry, I tried that before and it didn't work. The rocks caught me."

Song is by Cream, folks. (Yes. Cream. I listen to classic rock, too. Lessee, what music was it? The Who, Led Zeppelin, The Beatles, The Doors, Pink Floyd, The Rolling Stones, shit like that. Out of all of those, I can really only say I listen to The Who and The Beatles on a daily basis these days. I went through Pink Floyd in like, a year before finally I sorta just stopped. Then Led Zeppelin occurred around the same time when I had a bunch of scene friends… That got old _real_ fast. Now I just listen to whatever I can tolerate… Mostly post-punk and modern shit. Weird, huh? But The Beatles will always get me right in the heart. –swoon- The British Invasion was the shit, man…)

Enjoy the fic and ignore my musings, ha ha…

* * *

"**We're Going Wrong"  
**_Chapter Ten_

"The entire fucking week? Are you sure?"

Nicholas glared and glanced up at the clock on the wall for no reason other than the fact that it gave him something to do. The voice on the other line let out a loud curse, and he could hear the sounds of objects clattering to the ground.

"Thorne, come over here. Bring Peter with you. I want you to tell me exactly what happened."

They were over in no time flat. He sat there on his bed, glaring down at them. Peter looked as if he were about to start crying, and Thorne's eyes were red and puffy, a sign that he'd already cried. He also looked royally pissed off. Nicholas cleared his throat, effectively getting their attention.

"Well?"

Thorne narrowed his eyes and looked away, and Nicholas then noticed the bruise on the side of his cheek. He blinked, pointed at it with a weak-willed finger. "Who the fuck hurt you?"

Thorne's lips trembled, and then he threw his face in his hands, pulling at skin and tearing at hair. "Henrietta did it! She fucking hit me! She said we made her sick! She said she fucking hated being with us, Nicky! It's seriously over between us! There's no way she'll come back to us!!"

Nicholas gave a slightly manic laugh, unable to believe his ears. He stood up, grabbing Thorne by the shoulders. "What are you… Sh-She didn't say that!" Thorne nodded his head and Nicholas dropped him, taking a few steps back, completely hurt.

Peter looked up at him with sad eyes. "M-Maybe she's right…"

Both of the older boys froze and looked over at him. Peter just wiped at his eyes and sniffled, nodding his head slightly. "She… Wendy said it was because we were a bunch of m-mopey fuckheads…and… And Henrietta didn't correct her… She said it _was_ our faults for leaving…" He looked up at Nicholas, his eyes blurry with tears. "She said she couldn't take it anymore… M-Maybe she _was_ right, Nicky… A-After all…she told us to grow up that day when she called and asked to hang out with us…"

Nicholas was silently seething, shaking his head slowly, when Thorne turned back to face him, eyes a bit wider than normal. "She _did_ say that… And she said she wanted to give you a second chance. She…she called _you_ a prick." The realization dawned on him, and he gave an almost happy laugh. "It's…It's not me and Peter, Nicky! She doesn't hate _us_!"

Peter sniffled, and then spoke, his voice low. "Y-Yeah… …she hates _you_…"

For a moment Nicholas stood there, face blank, anger boiling below the surface, but then his face contorted. His eyebrows furrowed and he puffed out his chest, eyes flickering with anger and betrayal. "Both of you shut the fuck up. Isn't it _obvious_!? If she fucking hated just me she wouldn't have hit either of you across the face! Hell, she hasn't even hit _me_ across the face, even when we got into that argument over that CD she burned for me! If there was anyone she hated more, it _would_ be you two!"

Thorne stood up, trying to push any of that out of his head, trying to push the blame onto someone else. "She called _you_ a prick, Nicky! She hates _you_, not us!!" He glanced at Peter, suddenly feeling a great weight lift from his chest. He wiped a tear from his eyes and chuckled. "Oh God, it's not _us_ she hates, Pete… It's _not_ us…"

Nicholas stared at them, completely appalled. "What the fuck are you saying!? After you went and _defended_ her in a fucking _cat fight_, she hit you assholes across the face!! That's not gratitude!! And what the hell was that cat fight over, anyway!? It was over _Stan_!! It's fucking Stan you should be blaming! Not me!!"

After a short moment, Thorne glanced over at Peter. He mumbled something that Nicholas couldn't hear. Nicholas glared, grabbed him by the collar of his shirt. "You have something you don't want me to hear, _Thorne_?"

Thorne looked up at him, blinked slightly then glanced back at Peter. "Tell him…"

Nicholas glared at the younger boy, insistent. "Tell me _what_!?"

Peter flinched slightly, afraid of being the victim of his taller, older friend's wrath when he found out. His voice was soft and quiet. "That day she asked to hang out…when she was going to give you a second chance… The house she asked you to drive to… That…that was Stan's house…"

Nicholas released Thorne in an instant, effectively causing the red-streaked Goth to go clattering to the floor. His jaw dropped, and for almost a minute he couldn't even find it in him to be angry. However, when he found himself, his rage was beyond and explosion. He swung his fist over, knocking over everything on his bookcase and desk. He kicked the wall violently, leaving a giant dent.

"Fuck! Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck!!! _**God-fucking-damn it!!!**_"

Thorne scrambled away, back to the opposite wall where Peter had retreated to. Nicholas wheeled on them, eyes glaring daggers. "Why didn't you fucking tell me!? You knew and you never _said_ anything!? What do you think she was going to do while she was over there–have a fucking_ tea party_!? I knew it!! I've known it ever since she left me!! She's fucking in love with him! In _love_! With **him**!! That sack of _shit_!! I'll fucking kill him!! I'll fucking–" He cut off, suddenly staring at the ceiling with wide eyes as if a thought just occurred.

Thorne blinked, glanced at Peter. "She left _us_, too…" He grumbled a little bit, and Peter simply nodded, too frightened to crack a joke. That was Thorne's forte when frightened; his was to simply soil himself, which he was hoping _wouldn't_ happen on Nicholas's bedroom floor.

Nicholas spun around, his face instantly brightened by something. "Wait…wait, that doesn't matter… I don't need to kill Stan… That's right…" He looked down at his hands, clenched them. "I've got Shelley…"

Thorne nodded, but suddenly did a double-take. "Woah, whoa, whoa! Shelley _Marsh_!? Stan's fucking _sister_!?" He jumped up, glared at Nicholas. "Are you serious!? What are you _thinking_!? That's like…that's like fraternizing with the enemy, dude!!"

Nicholas's eyes twitched and he grimaced. "Never say dude again, Thorne."

Thorne shook his head, but ignored the comment entirely. "_Why_ the hell are you interested in his sister!? Please tell me you're just using her to get to Stan!"

Nicholas laughed and cuffed him on the shoulder. "You don't get it, Thorne. For a punk-ass bitch, she's actually not that bad… She's got a nice ass. You should have seen her when she was wearing a pair of shorts on Monday… Plus she's a fucking good kisser…"

Thorne's eyes glazed over at the prospect, but soon he shook his head. "Nicky! You can't possibly be _interested_ in her!! Have you _heard_ any of the shit about her!? She's a fucking loner! Everyone hates her and she hates everyone else! She fucking threw Kenny out of a car while it was in motion, for crying out loud!"

Nicholas blinked and glared at him. "You have no room to talk, Thorne. You met her last night, retard. That chick I asked to hang out with us– That was Shelley Fucking Marsh. You thought she was quite charming, so don't say shit about what you've heard. You know half the shit people say about _us_ isn't true."

Thorne thought about it for a moment then frowned. "Wait…but… But she can't take the place of Henrietta… C-Can't you just use her to dig up some shit on Stan or something? I mean, if we figured out something about Stan that was completely embarrassing, Henrietta would realize that she was in love with a total retard and come back to us… I mean, she knows who she likes to associate with, and it's only a matter of time before Stan messes up and makes her realize she belongs with us…"

Nicholas shook his head. "Thorne, Peter, I'll figure out a way to get Henrietta back on my own. Just go home. I'm sure you both had to sneak out or something since you got suspended… Pete, I know your parents are freakin' Nazis when it comes to punishment…"

Peter finally found it in him to chuckle. "My parents chewed me out when they got called up to the school… They really _are_ a bunch of Nazis. Can you believe it? Just because it was us two and Henrietta, they assumed it was a gang fight… As if we'd willingly gang up on someone else just because they're different than us…"

Nicholas glanced at Peter and narrowed his eyes a bit, then shooed them out of his room, leaving himself alone to stew. His thoughts drifted in and out, but he found it difficult to concentrate with the whole Shelley issue running around in his head. It was only a matter of time before he was falling for that punk-ass bitch.

He groaned and rolled over in bed, glared at the Cure poster on his wall. "Smith, you_ dick_. Filling my head with romance… Fuck you to hell…"

––––––––––

Friday came and went like a giant fog, leaving everyone feeling like shit and wishing it were a Monday instead.

Stan's day was so horrible, he nearly snapped on more than one occasion. Bebe came to school with a swollen face, and Wendy changed her appearance to suit her hair. She wore more "babydoll" clothing, went for that retro look with even chunkier accessories and lots of hair clips. She looked more "scene" than Henrietta had, and also without the "emo" influence. Many people thought she looked cuter with short hair, all except for Wendy, of course. When she would pass by Stan in the hall she would toss an insult his way. She was bitter and hurt, so she decided she might as well be a bitch about it. Of course, Cartman seized this opportunity and tried to slick down his hair, wear nicer clothes and impress her. Kyle and Kenny were both stunned to see him eating less, trying to lose weight. And, because he was trying to impress Wendy, he took every cheap shot he could at Stan, finally causing Kyle to drag their dark-haired friend off to the library for his emotional well-being.

Shelley's day was even less remarkable, although it was ten times more enjoyable. She spent her day _in_ school, _all day_, for the first time since Monday. The only thing that struck her as odd was the fact that Kevin and all of his friends had stolen the spot where she usually sat. Whether it was because Kevin was being a spiteful bastard or because he wanted to see what she would do, she didn't care. She simply sat with Nicholas that day at lunch. Every once in a while one of the boys in Kevin's group would say something and everyone there would suddenly let out a big yell, entertained as if they had a gladiator fight taking place on their plates. Finally, Shelley got fed up with it and walked over to them, kicked one of the bastards in the back of the head and told them to shut the fuck up. They all burst out laughing, but, like she told them to, they quieted down a little bit after she stormed off back to her seat.

Oh, and Nicholas asked to hang out with her on Saturday, too.


	11. Break the Black Ice

This was a fun chapter. Cat fights are twice as fun to write, mainly because girls have absolutely _no_ form when they fight. You don't see many men biting and scratching at each other's hair. But still, dog fights are pretty fun to write. And no, I don't mean the kind in the air. Ha ha.

If there _is_ one thing more fun than making two dudes start fighting, it's to cut Kevin down until he has nothing left. I really feel sorry for Kevin in this chapter. But, that's how it is. The entire time I was writing this I was going, "Awwwww! Poor Kevin! I'm sorry, sweetie! I'll make it up to you, I swear!" Because I totally get engulfed in fiction and tend to forget they don't actually _exist._

The song this chapter's title is named for is by Death in June. (Go listen to it.)

Enjoy the fic.

* * *

**"Break the Black Ice"  
**_Chapter Eleven_

Saturday was rather dull. Apparently, the other two Goth kids had gotten into a fight at school and were suspended for a week. The littlest one was grounded, but the other's parents were fairly lenient, as in, they didn't give two shits about what went on in his life.

So they were at his house, hanging out and listening to music. Shitty music at that. It all sounded the exact same, everything sounded like dark 80's pop that she had no interest in whatsoever. It was enough to get her screaming in the first place.

He got her attention and then gave her a hard look. "So…Shelley… Could you look through Stan's room for us?"

Shelley turned her gaze to Nicholas, suddenly enraged. If he was just doing this for–

Nicholas didn't meet her eyes and glared at the other Goth. "Thorne, this is _exactly_ why I didn't want you finding out she was related to Stan. We can get Henrietta back in our group without using anyone, so don't even fucking try it. Besides, what good would looking through his room do? I already told you how we'd get Henrietta back, and it doesn't have anything to do with that pussy or his things."

Thorne gave him a long, long look before he looked away. "Right… I'm sorry, Nicky. I guess I just got carried away…" He then turned to Shelley, rolled his eyes as if he didn't want to have to apologize to her. "And I'm sorry I asked you to look through his room; I wasn't thinking. We're really not trying to use you to get to Stan…"

Shelley just blew it off, not really caring either way. Nicholas simply sighed and took a moment to clear his head before turning to her. "I'm sorry he's being an ass. If you want, I can just take you out to lunch or something…"

Shelley thought about it for a moment then smiled. "Sure… I'd like that…"

Nicholas smiled. "I thought you would." Thorne made over-dramatic gagging noises, and they both glared at him. The curly-haired Goth cleared his throat, grabbed onto Shelley's arm and pulled her out the door. "I didn't ask for your input, Thorne…"

The other Goth simply snickered, but waved good-bye all the same.

–––––––––––

Nicholas hopped into the car, and Shelley slid into the passenger's seat. She kind of liked this now. She was more aware of what she was doing, what she was wearing, how she did her make-up, did her hair. A part of her that she killed after Skyler dumped her was starting to come back. She wanted to be girly again, wanted to listen to boy bands again, listen to pop singers. She wanted to dress up, doll herself up. Nicholas made her feel somewhat alive again. Albeit, he was still a faggy Goth kid, but he was also a boy that was genuinely interested in her.

"–ley?" She lifted her head, unaware she'd been lost in thought. She stared up into his grey-brown eyes, melted at the look in them. He frowned, repeated his question. "Is Benny's okay?"

"Y-Yeah. Sure…"

She nodded her head dumbly, glanced out the window when he started driving. Sure, she was taking a bit risk, a risk she'd sworn she wouldn't take ever again, but she was okay with it. If it was with some kid that acted as uncaring as she did, she was fine with it. All of the romance she'd grown to hate, all the compliments, all the people she'd pushed away didn't seem so aggravating anymore. All of the walls she'd built around herself were starting to crumble, and she felt_ alive_.

They reached the restaurant and got out of the car. Inside it was just as empty as the parking lot. There were probably only two or three people there; hardly anyone seemed to eat there. They went to their table, and Nicholas stared at the menu for half a second before tossing it off to the side. Apparently he came here a _lot_.

However, she was having a harder time choosing. What was too pig of her? If she ordered a big meal would he think she was a lardo? Was meat a no-no? She couldn't have a cheeseburger or something simple like that? Would he care? After some consideration, she settled on a salad and some soup.

She pushed the menu to the side, effectively knocking it onto the floor on accident. She leaned over to pick it up, but another hand, tan and rough and dirty-looking, grabbed it before she could.

"Just a second, Miss. Let me get that for you…"

Shelley stiffened, knowing that voice all too well. She jolted up in her chair, turning to see Nicholas as tense as she was. He was looking up at their waiter, with a look of almost disgust on his face. The waiter laughed and placed it on the table.

"Hi, my name is Kevin, and I'll be…" He trailed off when he saw who it was, strained a chuckle and rubbed the back of his neck. "W-Well, hi, you two… Um…I-I'm Kevin and I'll be–"

Shelley shot him a stiff glare. "We _know_ who are, and we know you'll be serving us. Just take our orders and try not to make this as awkward as it already is."

After a moment, Kevin gave her a pained smile and got out his booklet. He flipped through some pages and pulled out a pen from his half-apron. "Okay…w-well, today's special is–"

Nicholas groaned, shot him a look of utter hatred. "We don't _care_ what the goddamn special is. Just take our drink orders…"

Kevin pouted a bit, put off with his behavior and also insulted that, even though he knew Nicholas was definitely his rival and that Shelley hated him with every ounce of her being, they would still talk to their waiter like that. There was a time and place for arguing, wasn't there? "Okay. Well, what would you like to drink?" He muttered "douche bag" as an after thought, enough so Nicholas could just _barely_ hear it, as if it was simply a voice in that curly-mopped head of his.

Nicholas shot him a glare, but waved his hand nonchalantly as if everything were fine. "Coffee. Black."

Kevin smiled, trying to sound hospitable, but also trying to be a complete asshole to him at the same time. "Like your heart, right? Ha ha…" He gave a self-absorbed laugh, just for effect, and tried to sound as cheesy as possible when he did it.

The two at the table just glared at him and he trailed off into an awkward, dumb silence. He then turned to Shelley, trying his best not to look at her because he knew he'd probably lose it right then and there, and she did the same. "What–"

"I'll have a water."

Kevin blinked then glanced over at Nicholas, back in Shelley's direction again. As a kid, she hated the taste of water and would avoid having to drink it unless it was flavored. She was changing; he could see it. She was trying to impress that douche bag not even worthy of her attention, let alone her affection. "Y-You don't want a soda or something?" Shelley shook her head. "But you used to–"

"I'm not a kid anymore. Just get over it and get our drinks."

Kevin gave a small smile and walked off in a hurry, into the kitchens for a moment. He had to fight the urge to kill that Goth kid sitting across the table from her. He didn't want to lose this job; it was the only job he'd been able to get that didn't refuse him because of how he looked. It was probably the only good job in town that he'd be able to get. He needed to calm down. But still, how far would she go to changing for that kid? Would she go so far that she'd become something he didn't even recognize anymore? It was enough to drive him up the wall!

––––––––––––––

Outside, at the table, Shelley picked at the crud underneath a neon orange polished nail, clicking her tongue against the roof of her mouth. "I hate him so much… He _still_ won't get a clue. We _were_ friends, but we're not anymore. God, he's only making me hate him more."

Nicholas nodded his head a little and began to twiddle his thumbs, staring at his hands, deep in thought. As much as he hated Kevin, he sort of saw where he was coming from. He bit his lip, glaring at the table. Was Henrietta saying this same shit to Stan? Something in him rose, his heart-rate sped up and he suddenly became volatile.

Kevin came back, sliding the coffee in front of him, nearly breaking the coffee mug. Some of the coffee splashed out, all over Nicholas's white shirt, causing the curly-haired boy to give a cry of pain and anger. Kevin ignored it, ignored how Shelley got _worried_ for that asshole, and simply set her glass of water in front of her, began to walk away.

Shelley glared and turned to him. "Kevin, you fucking asshole! You spilled some of it on his shirt!"

Kevin stiffened, and turned just in time to see Nicholas swat her away. "Shut the hell up. I can handle this shithead myself." Shelley gave a half-sort-of frown and looked down at the table angrily.

"Way to be rude, asshole…"

Nicholas just stood up, ignoring the few people eating who were now stopping and staring at him. "Whatever, bitch. Just let me handle this!" Shelley sighed and glanced out the window, and everything Kevin had been holding back came fumbling, stumbling, bubbling to the surface, spilling over in rivers.

He threw a punch, hitting Nicholas square in the jaw. Shelley gasped as Nicholas came falling back into his chair. She leaned over, asked him if he was okay. Nicholas just pushed her away and stood up, stepping toward Kevin and shoving him into another table behind the older boy.

The manager came out to see what the ruckus was, just in time to see Kevin throw another punch and hit the slightly taller boy in the chest. He ran over. "Kevin! What the hell is wrong with you!? Don't hit my customers! Get out of here and don't even think about coming back until you've taken a goddamn anger management course! You're fired! I knew I should have thought twice about a punk like you!"

Kevin froze and realized he'd lost it. He'd lost everything; first he'd lost Shelley, then he'd lost his job, his refuge, his rock to fall back on when he feared he'd turn out like his parents; he had nothing going for him now. Nicholas managed to get the last punch in, slamming his knuckles into the older boy's nose, causing a spurt of blood to come dribbling down his lips and chin. Kevin stumbled backward, falling at the manager's feet.

The manager glared, and Kevin stood up, swearing crudely, removing his half-apron and tossing it on the ground at his feet. He ripped the name-tag off his shirt and threw it down, storming out of the building. The only satisfaction he could find in the whole damn situation was hearing the manager's angry shouts tell the two troublemakers to get the hell out of his restaurant.

Surprisingly, he found an arm grab him as he made his way back to the road to the train tracks. He spun around, found Shelley staring at him with an almost awkwardly puzzled expression, like she wasn't even sure why she was doing this in the first place. His heart did a flip-flop, and he sucked in a breath, wiped the blood away from his sore nose. Even if it was a chance, even the smallest chance, he had it. He had it, and he wouldn't make another mistake this time.

Her eyes narrowed. "How is it?" He stared at her dumbly, wondering what the hell she meant. She sighed, looked down and fought for words. "How's…" She frowned, getting angry at being unable to say it. Unable to lower herself to be _nice_. "I mean your _nose_, stupid! Is it fucking broken or not!?"

He stared at her for another long moment before the corners of his mouth twitched upward. "N-No… I…I think it's just bruised…"

She gave a sigh of what he hoped to God was relief and then gave him another hard look. "Good, but I don't even want to see you fucking pull that shit again."

Kevin groaned and looked away. "I'm…I'm sorry I hit your boyfriend, or whatever the hell he is… It's just that he was being a total ass to you."

She glared, tapped her foot a little. "I can deal with that fuckhead myself, Kevin. We're not technically as close as you seem to think we are. I'm just as much of an asshole to him as he is to me, so don't go out of your way to get injured on _my_ fucking behalf. You…" Her face fell, and she coughed a little. "You get enough bruises at home, anyways…"

He stared at her, feeling that light feeling well up in his chest again. She was concerned about him. That was great; that was more than great! That small chance had increased. It was bigger now! He swallowed a lump in his throat. "It's really not as bad as you make it sound…"

Shelley looked away and glanced back at Nicholas before she turned back to him. She stared him straight in the eye. "Kevin, you know I don't like you, and I know you like me enough to keep pushing and pushing, but I'm going to tell you this right now: I want you to fucking stop it. All it's doing is making me hate you more. You remember how much I changed after Skyler dumped me, right? Well, Nicholas is… He's…" She turned red and her gaze turned to her shoes. "Well…he's making me really happy…and I feel like…like doing all the shit I used to do back then… So please, please, _please_ don't try to fuck this up. I'm begging you. I'm actually fucking _begging_ you. If you try and fuck this up, I swear to God I will go berserk."

After a while she looked back up at him, and he looked crushed and happy all at the same time. "But…But, Shell, look at yourself… Sure you're changing and shit, and you're happier, but what about the water? You used to hate water that wasn't flavored when you were a kid! You're doing this because of _him_! You don't have to start being concerned about shit like that just for a guy!"

Shelley groaned and turned around. "I knew you wouldn't get it. I fucking _knew_ you weren't going to stop trying, but I went ahead and did it anyway." She sighed, started to walk off. "This was just a fucking waste of my time… _You're_ a fucking waste of my time…"

He grabbed her wrist, ignoring the daggers Nicholas was showering him with through his glare as he sat back in his car. He didn't care; all he knew was that Shelley was still concerned about him; maybe it was just pity, but that didn't matter. He just needed to plant something in her head. Just one little seed of reason and eventually she'd realize.

She spun around, ripped her hand from his, waited for him to say something. Kevin stared her down, took a short breath and said it. "I'll bet you were going to order something that didn't seem fattening."

Her eyes flickered, and he silently praised himself. He _knew_ it. She had been planning on ordering something she didn't want simply because she was afraid of what he would think, and he had caught her! That was all he needed. So, he wiped some of the blood off his face and turned around, leaving. He didn't even have to look back and see how she acted.

All he needed to do was plant something there so she'd eventually see how foolish she was being.

Just one little seed of reason.

* * *

The next chapter is centered on Henrietta. Because she's my favorite character to write about. She has been for about two months now. Ha ha. But, like I said, it's crucial to the story. 


	12. Hall of Mirrors

I like this chapter. The main point of it was to show that no one's perfect, no matter how amazingly kind they are. Another thing this shows is how things go to hell when there is a failure in communication. It also explains how Nicholas's character is and how he's also changed ever since he met Shelley. (Because he really _has_.)

I would like to mention that I hated the end of this chapter. I really could have written it better. At first I had four paragraphs of inner monologue, and I realized that would shoot her up from a minor character to a main character, and the main characters are really supposed to be Stan and Shelley. So I changed it. Maybe I shouldn't have... I don't know. Oh well.

The title of the chapter is after a song by Siouxsie and the Banshees. Oh God, it's great. I demand you go listen to them. Now. Her voice is so gorgeous...

Enjoy, my lovelies.

* * *

**"Hall of Mirrors"  
**_Chapter Twelve_

On Sunday he showed up on her doorstep, drenched in rain and sleet and snow, but he could have cared less. All he cared about was talking to her. He wouldn't let their relationship turn out like Shelley and Kevin's. He couldn't, _wouldn't_, let her hate him. He promised Thorne and Peter he'd get her back, and he he knew how to do it.

She opened the door, suddenly going stiff slightly, in surprise. She took a breath and opened the door wider, glanced outside at all the sleet falling down heavily. "What are you doing here?"

Nicholas took a breath and stared her right in the eye. "We need to talk."

She glanced back at the house, then back at him. Her parents always understood her; her mother was a saint, practically. She'd told her mother everything: about Stan being gay; about how she had to protect his image; about how she had gotten so violent because Bebe had hurt one of her friends. Her mother simply smiled and told her it was alright. She had honorable intentions, and as long as she was sorry for causing so much damage, it was alright. She wasn't mad. That was one of the reasons she became sick of being one of the Goth kids. She was sick of treating her mother like trash and calling her a bitch, when her mother was one of the kindest women in the world. She was understanding, accepting and always wanted what was best for her.

That was why they wouldn't care if she had friends over; they knew her reasons behind the fight and knew she had good intentions behind it.

Her cheeks flushed slightly when she looked back up at him, tall and dark and soaking wet. She didn't want to let him in, he'd just try to brain-wash her again and she couldn't take it anymore. But he was beginning to shiver slightly from the cold.

"What do you want to talk about?"

He looked down at the ground, then back to her, staring at the empty space above her head, at her forehead, at her feet, finally resting on her nose. "Please…"

She frowned and took a step away from the door. Ugh, he _had_ to sound so pathetic and desperate, didn't he? He just… Ugh. She couldn't stand it. Ugh, just _ugh_. It was bad enough she wanted Thorne and Peter to come back and instead she'd yelled at them and said she hated them, but it was even worse that more than anything she wanted _Nicholas_ to come away from all of that dark shit. For just _him_ to realize he was being stupid.

He walked in, and immediately went up the steps to her room. She grimaced, knowing he would practically faint at the sight.

He almost did, but then she came up behind him and laughed, asking him if he was surprised. Hell _yes_ he was surprised, but he couldn't tell her _that_! He couldn't tell her how he had expected her room to be the _same_–dark, dim and messy. Now it was light, pristine and…and…way too _cutesie_. Gone were the skulls on her bookshelf; gone was the deep violet paint job on her wall; gone, too, were the numerous posters of Blauhaus and Skinny Puppy and other dark posters. Instead, he was met with light-grey walls with white stars dotting them. Instead of the black drapes over her window, there were purple ones, with a pinstripe pattern going down them, making them look longer than they really were. Instead, there were posters for mainstream bands, like Linkin Park and Breaking Benjamin, Jimmy Eat World and…and…what the hell were those Pink CD's doing on her bed? Was she _listening_ to them?? Listening to _Pink_!? The skull-kitty pillow was still there, but it was joined by a few other pillows that looked like they came out of a candy factory–all yellow and pink and light green, with little chocolate-coloured cats on them–and a stuffed elephant that looked too cute to be alive.

He took a breath and shook his head. "I expected this much…"

Henrietta pushed him inside and sat down on her bed, waiting for him to tell her what he was doing here. He glanced around the room, afraid to touch anything. "Where… What about my…coat?"

Henrietta laughed and jumped up, taking it and tossing it to the floor. "I'm still the same person. I just have different interests now…" She stood there in front of him, staring at his chest. He was much, much taller than her, and she always felt like a dwarf in comparison. After a moment, her smile faded and she just stood there. A moment later she simply looked up at him. He was staring down at her, clenching his fists, which were hanging by his side, closer to his back than toward her.

She took a few steps back, gave a small cough. "So…why are you here? You said you wanted to talk…"

She sat down again and looked up at him, preparing to counter any manipulative points he could throw at her. After what felt like a long time, he glanced away. "…I miss you."

This was completely unexpected. She froze, and her mouth opened, gaping. Well, what was she supposed to say to _that_!? She closed her mouth, turned slightly pink and glared at the elephant on her bed. "That won't work. I already _told_ you. I'm not going to go back to any of you…"

He swallowed, his voice almost breaking. "Look, you don't have to come back to _me_, but at least do it for Thorne and Peter."

She quirked a brow, pursed her lips and eyed him with a simmering expression. "Oh? So it's no longer about _you_, is it?"

He shook his head. "There's no point in begging you to come back to me. I already know you hate me. I'm sure you blame me for how Peter and Thorne have acted. I'm sure you blame me for everything."

She glared and stood up. "Blame you? _Hate_ you!? Don't you _see_!? You're arrogant; you're rude; you're obstinate and childish! You act as if you know everything and that you're the only one that matters in this world! Of course I fucking hate you!! You're sickening; I can't stand being near you anymore! It's suffocating!"

He took a step back and smiled, lightly. "Yeah, I figured you thought that…"

She didn't stop; she merely ignored him and went on. "And what I hate the most about you is the fact that you seem to think that we all have to like the same things you do! That we have to like certain music and dress a certain way and act a certain way and…and I'm fed up with it! I can't do that anymore, not after I realized how much of a _tool_ I'd become!" She glared at him, crossed her arms over her chest. "So _yeah_, Nicholas. I _do_ hate you…"

He stared at her for a while, going through a whole multitude of emotions: first anger; then disbelief; haughty denial; hurt; sadness; guilt; and finally back to indifferent. "I'm not like that anymore, though…"

She burst out laughing. "Fuck _yes_, you are! Don't try to deny it!"

He stared at her, trying to make her see it was true, trying to find something that would prove it. "I'm hanging out with Shelley Marsh. She likes Iron Maiden and Prince and dressing up in rockabilly outfits and wearing glitter and…and… Well, I've… I find her attractive, even though she doesn't dress like us. I've made out with her; I don't hate her; I don't care if she likes any of that…"

Henrietta's face fell, and she stared at him, trying to process everything. He was hanging out with Stan's sister. He'd made out with her; he didn't hate her. He'd _made out_ with her. As in _kissed_, possibly with _tongue_. A surge of anger filled her chest, making her eyes narrow.

"What the hell are you getting at? Are you _trying_ to piss me off? Are you just using her to get to Stan?? Why the hell are you even bothering with her!? You hate people like her! You're obviously trying to get to Stan through her! So that somehow I'll suddenly go with you because Stan's getting hurt or something! You're _using_ her, right??"

He stared at her for a long moment before he shook his head. "No, I'm not."

She slapped him across the face, having to step up to her tiptoes just to get enough force for it to hurt. "You fucking liar!"

He took a step back, gave her a hurt look. "I don't see what's so hard to believe about it. You used to trust me before. Why can't you take my word now?"

Henrietta clenched her fist and stormed over to her dresser, pulling out a skull-shaped candle. She showed it to him then threw it to the ground, letting pieces of it break off and scatter all over the ground. "Because everything you've ever said to me has been a fucking _lie_. People who don't dress like us aren't 'conformists'; there's more to life than wallowing in darkness; and you don't give two shits about me!"

He glared. "I…_What_Of course I fucking _care_. Why else would I be jumping through hoops just to get you back with us!? Why else would…" He trailed off, refusing to give her _that_ satisfaction. That he'd actually _kept_ the CD. Kept that CD with mainstream crap on it. Even if he only really kept it because it was the only thing he had left to remember her by.

She laughed. "Exactly. You don't care about _me_, or _Thorne_, or even _Peter_. You only care about _one_ person, Nicholas. And that person is_ you_. The only reason why you care so much about losing me is because you can't stand to lose a friend, not because you care about _us_. You just don't want to lose a friend, someone who makes _you_ feel somewhat adequate. Makes _you_ feel happy. If you cared about _me_, you'd want me to be happy. And I'm happy here. I'm _happy_ listening to Linkin Park and Pink and Jimmy Eat World, and dressing in colours and smiling and laughing and writing stories about happiness rather than death. And you want to know how I know you're _really_ using Shelley? Because when it comes right down to it, all you're really doing is replacing me, aren't you?"

He glared at her and clenched his fists, refusing to believe anything she said. He knew how he was, and she didn't know shit about him. If that's what she thought he actually believed, then they had had a serious failure in communication.

She simply smiled, looking pleased with herself. "Have you introduced her to Thorne and Peter? She's well on her way to becoming part of your group now, isn't she?"

Nicholas seemed angry for a long, long time, and Henrietta simply gave him a smug smile, knowing she was right. However, Nicholas's face changed, and now _he_ was the one being smug. "I don't give a shit if she's going to become a part of our group. Did I ever make out with _you_, Henrietta? Well, no, I didn't. I don't make out with friends, do I? Shelley's just a girl I'm interested in dating."

Henrietta smiled, but he could tell she was at least a little bit put off by that. She smiled and nodded her head. "Good for you, Nicholas. Say whatever you want to rationalize it."

All of a sudden, a jingle of "Big Girl", by Mika, began to ring, and her face dropped. She looked around, finally spotting her cell phone on the bookcase behind Nicholas. She dashed to it, flipped it open, smiled. "Hey, Stan. Yeah, I can talk…"

Nicholas watched her, watched how her smoky-lidded eyes danced, how she bit her lip a little and started checking for dirt underneath a black-painted nail with a white tip. Her eyes drifted over to him, and she smiled. "Actually, no. I'm not alone. Would you rather I kick him out so we can be alone…? I've been wanting to hear your voice all day, babe…"

She turned around and laughed, whispered something he couldn't hear into the phone. He glared, getting angrier and angrier with each passing second. He clenched his fists, clenched his teeth, stared down at the ground and tried to calm his head. It wasn't doing him any good; he could still hear her talking to _him_.

Her voice dipped, becoming low and seductive, slow and more annunciated. "Yeah, Wendy put up a fight, but I managed to hold my own. Oh, and did you see what I did to that blonde bitch's face? I heard from Kenny that the entire left side of her face was swollen and blue… What? …" She giggled. "Of course I did it for you… Yeah… I know you've been wanting that for a while… I'm just saving up for some sexy lingerie… No, I refuse to do it until I buy a pair you haven't seen yet… Oh, wait, Stan, babe, hold on one sec…"

She turned to Nicholas, glanced at the look on his face, bit her lip hesitantly. She finally decided she'd do it, and tapped him on the shoulder. He looked at her, his eyes smoldering with every ounce of hate in him. She looked somewhat freaked out at the look in his eyes, but she swallowed the lump in her throat and motioned at him with her hand. "That Skinny Puppy CD I let you borrow? You can keep it. I'd rather listen to Nine Inch Nails, anyway…"

He didn't say a word; he just made a sound that resembled a bull, half enraged, half pained, and stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind him. As he stormed out of her house, ignoring the questions her parents were asking, all he could think of was how much he hated Stan. How he was a self-righteous douche bag, how even his sister was a total bitch, despite those seldom moments where she seemed to shine. Those moments when she was apathetic, uncaring, smoking, pissed off with a very contained anger, much like Henrietta had always had.

He didn't want to even try and get back Henrietta anymore. All he wanted now was to ruin Stan, to make him go crumbling to the ground, to hurt everyone and everything he knew. And he would, starting with that bitch of a sister.

––––––––––––

Henrietta stared at the door for a long time, until Stan started calling her name over the phone and asking if she was still there. Tears welled up in her eyes and she nodded her head, though she knew he wouldn't have been able to see it. "Y-Yeah…I'm here…"

He asked her if she was okay. "Yeah." She nodded her head again, telling herself she was.

All the while she stood there, staring directly at the Skinny Puppy poster on the back of her door. The engraved "NINE INCH NAILS SUCKS ASS" below it, the pictures of her favorite band plastered around that single phrase, to prove that Skinny Puppy really _was_ better than anything, even if the music sounded somewhat similar.

Lying. Who was lying? She was, of course. No, what she had been saying was true all along. She was just telling what was out in front of her. Nicholas _was_ a manipulative asshole. She cared more about the group than he ever could. No, than he could ever care about _her_. And that was obvious; if he cared, he would've realized what the fuck she had meant with that CD. He'd know everything; he'd know what she was trying to tell him. He'd know why she was trying to change them, why she was trying to change _him_. He'd know it was because she _cared_ too much to let him destroy himself with that kind of attitude. He never opened up; he _needed_ to open up. He couldn't open up until he saw how flawed his logic was. Until he realized why she was doing this, he wouldn't be able to tell anyone how he felt, what was bothering him.

Of course, she wasn't aware that he already _had_ opened up. And to someone he normally wouldn't bother with, in fact.

Yes, she cared about them. She cared about Peter, and Thorne, and…Nicholas. She wanted them with her; She wanted them to stop being so obstinate and change with her. To realize there was more to life than wallowing around in perceived torment. She needed them, and because they weren't there, she was miserable. She didn't want to be alone in this. Sure, she knew Raven and his friends, but that was not good enough. Raven, no, Stan wasn't good enough. She needed her friends. She needed Nicky, but all she wound up doing was push him away. Was she even trying anymore? All she did was yell at them because she was so tired of trying to change them. She was so angry all the time because she was so miserable.

"_This isn't me,"_ she realized. _"This isn't the me I like. This isn't the me _they_ like. Of course they won't change for _this_. I'm not the same Henrietta anymore. I'm just angry and vindictive, petty and jealous, tired and– Why am I rejecting them like this? They haven't said anything about me changing. They just want me to talk to them. They just… _

"_Oh God, _I'm_ the one that's blind. They didn't give a shit whether or not I liked different things until I started to _ignore_ them!"_

Stan wasn't convinced; she could tell by the tense silence ringing in her ear. After a while the tears started falling and she shook her head.

"No, I'm not. I'm lying…" The words invaded her head, twisted her stomach sour, filled her lungs and suffocated her, chewed her up and spit her back out. "I'm miserable." And then, "I'm no better than him."

* * *

I'm fairly sure the next chapter is dealing with Shelley. But I haven't had it planned out yet, so you'll have to be surprised, won't you? 


	13. Problems

Sorry, I've been engulfed in myself for the past too long. I actually wrote this entire thing a month ago or so. About a week after I posted up the last one, that is. I can't say how sorry I am for making all of you wait. Expect a long wait after this one, but not due to laziness. I really am wracking my brain at how to continue it. I know where I'm going with this story, it's just getting there that's difficult. Mainly, I have a major stumbling block in my way at the moment. Hope you all enjoy this'un. Really. Enjoy it.

Thank the Sex Pistols for this chapter title. (Seriously. Go thank them. I have a time machine if you wanna borrow it.)

Oh, and before I forget, this chapter introduces the Sixth Graders (think bewbs) as Kevin's friends, because he should be around the same age as them. But, like in most high schools, some of his friends aren't in the same grade as him, so there are a few kids at his table that are younger than him. All the speaking parts are given to the Sixth Graders, except for one freshman, who is un-named.

Sean is what I named the main leader of the Sixth Graders. You know him -- squinty eyes and everything.

* * *

**"Problems"  
**_Chapter 13_

Kevin could hear it in the halls, in the parking lot, in every corner of the school. _"You saw them, didn't you?" _Hurried whispers and frantic mumblings bounced from student to student. _"Are they dating now?" _Hell, even his _friends_ were talking about it, now!

"_I totally saw them sucking face behind the school on Monday."_

"_I saw it, too! I was with you, babe… Stefanie was telling me about them. Apparently every day before he leaves she makes out with him. A _freshman_; what a desperate bitch…"_

"_Hey… You think I'd have a chance with her? She seems easy."_

"_You dick! Did you forget you were talking to your girlfriend or something!?"_

In chemistry class he could hear the girls behind him whispering about it. In gym class he could hear the guys speaking in the locker room about it. Everywhere he went, everywhere he thought he'd find peace from it, there a group was, talking about those two.

"_Figures _those_ two would wind up together… I mean, have you seen them with _friends_? They don't _have_ any friends."_

"_I know, I _totally_ figured those socially-inept losers would hook up… I always thought the McCormick kid was a good match for her. Both of them are total shitbags; both of them have absolutely no sense of decency or style or anything, really. I heard they used to be friends… You think he's going to try and win her back or something?"_

"_No, she hates his fucking guts. I heard she drop-kicked him when he harassed them at that one diner. I think it was called Benny's or something?"_

"_Ugh, why don't they hang out at the _mall_ like normal people?"_

"_Ha ha, I know, right! Then again, I doubt either of the three of them could afford it… I hear Shelley's just as poor as the McCormicks…"_

It was driving him crazy!! He couldn't go anywhere without hearing it! Finally, on Wednesday, he lost it. Sean was talking with the guys at lunch, and then he decided to lean over to Kevin, crinkle his nose slightly, and say something to him. "Hey Kevin, didja hear those cheerleaders talking in math class? Shelley Marsh is dating a freshman!"

One of the other guys laughed. "I know, dude! I'm so freakin' jealous! I mean, any of you guys wonder if she has her mom's tits? I'll bet she does. She's dating that one Goth kid, right? Ah man, he's so fucking lucky! Fucking her is like fucking her mom!"

Sean laughed, snorting a little at the end. "I know! If she's got her mom's body, it only makes sense that she'd have her mom's bewbs! That Goth kid really _is_ one lucky sonuva bitch! She's totally going to fuck him the first time he asks, too! She's gone so long without a good lay that she's totally going to turn into a nympho or something!"

Kevin stood up, slamming his fists on the table. "Will all of you shitheads shut the fuck up!?"

His friends quieted, and one of the freshmen shuddered. "Shit, guys. Now look at what you all did. You made him _really_ mad…" Then he began to snicker, amused by how just because Kevin said the f-word, he meant "srs bzniss". Kevin responded by slamming his hand down into the kid's mashed potatoes, getting butter and white mush and left over sauce from his spaghetti all over the place. His friends all flinched, but Kevin didn't stop.

Instead, he stormed over to where the Goth kid was sitting.

–––––––––––––

Shelley looked up at Nicholas, staring at him incredulously. "W-What!?"

Nicholas smirked, gave her a wink and lowered his voice seductively. "You heard me… I was wondering if I could come over on Friday… It's just a stupid pep-rally day anyway. No one ever has anything to do in class on Prep-Rally Day…"

Shelley turned bright red and stuttered, looking down at her half-eaten salad. "B-B-But… W-Why can't we just s-sit in your car like we did last week?"

"It's not going to be comfortable in my car. Besides, I don't want to get the seats dirty."

Her face turned even darker, and she looked away. "N-Nicholas… I don't know about _that_…"

He leaned over and grabbed her chin, turning her face up towards his. "Don't you love me?" His eyes were smoldering and intense, and she wanted very much to say yes. Something moved in her line of vision, and her eyes focused onto the figure standing behind him. He blinked, angry that she'd turn her gaze away, and glared. "_What?_"

A finger tapped him on the shoulder and he turned, livid. "What the fuck do you–"

He turned to meet Kevin glaring at him, holding his hand out as if he were trying to slap him in the face. Before the Goth could finish his sentence, and instead of slapping him, Kevin wiped his hand all over the Goth's face and hair, getting ice cold white mush and butter and spaghetti sauce all over him, across his face and stuck in his hair.

Nicholas gasped, and Kevin felt a small twinge of happiness when Shelley began to giggle.

Nicholas swore, and Shelley burst out laughing, causing the entire cafeteria to quiet. Shelley never laughed; she never _smiled_, let alone _laughed_! Kevin's enraged scowl faded, and he let a dopey smile cross his face, let his eyebrows fall back in an upward turned angle of relief, and let his shoulders drop slightly.

Nicholas spun around to her. "What the hell, Shelley!? It's not fucking funny!!"

Shelley wiped a tear from her eye and pounded her fist on the table. "P-P-Phf-ff-fwahahahaha! Oh my _God_! Ha ha ha, the timing of it was _perfect_! And that faggy little gasp afterwards!? You totally sounded like a chick!"

Nicholas narrowed his eyes, clenched his teeth. He picked up his thermos, still half-full with hot soup, and dumped it all over Kevin's head, causing the older teen to let out a cry in pain. Shelley gasped, and her smile faded; she winced, standing up abruptly.

"Nicholas, what the hell!? That's a bit much, don't you think!? That looked painful!"

Over at Kevin's regular table, his friends began to whisper among themselves.

Then Sean stood up and let out a cheer, grabbed his coke, shaking it up, and popped the top, spraying it all over the table to his left filled with a bunch of well-mannered, well-groomed and well-_endow_ed girls. They began to squeal and all hell broke loose.

"Eeeew! Gross! Some of us are wearing white, you assholes!"

Sean burst out laughing. "Check her out, guys! I can totally see her bewbs!"

Almost every guy in the vicinity ran to go check it out, leaving Nicholas and Kevin to fight, again, alone.

With her interest piqued, and the humor of the whole situation gone, Shelley watched with interest at the face-off. However, it was rather long and drawn out, and with each minute that went by, her desire to continue watching their little almost-skirmish decreased. After what seemed like forever, Nicholas finally changed his stance. He drew his shoulders up nonchalantly and crossed his arms over his chest. His back straightened, his chin rose, and a small smile soon graced his face.

"That's right… I forgot I might need permission…"

Kevin glared, spitting out a frail, "W-What permission…?"

The Goth kid threw caution to the wind and grabbed Shelley over to him, dragging her over and grabbing her around the waist. "Seeing as how you seem to think you're her guardian or something, I figure I should at _least_ get your permission to fuck her."

Shelley's face turned red in unison with Kevin's, and she glared, looking away. "Sh-Shut the fuck up… Th-That's… D-Don't say shit like that out loud, asshole!"

Kevin's cheeks flushed even darker and he glanced over at Shelley then back at Nicholas. After a moment his jaw dropped and he turned back to Shelley. "You aren't seriously _considering_ that, are you!? You don't just rush into shit like that!"

Shelley turned to him and glared. "Who gives a fuck what you think, Kevin!? It's my life, my relationship, and you're not my damn mother, so just step off!"

Kevin stifled a laugh, though he felt like he was suffocating. "B-But you've only been dating for a freakin' week!! What the hell!?"

Nicholas coughed and squeezed Shelley a bit tighter, making her shut up. He didn't react at all, keeping up the nonchalant act, and simply shrugged his shoulders again. "Is that a yes or a no?"

Kevin, completely flabbergasted, blurted out an incredulous, "What the hell do you _think_!? Hell no!"

Shelley pulled away from him, glaring and throwing his hand away from her. "What!? I don't need his fucking permission, Nicholas! Stop acting like we're children; it's insulting!"

He simply smiled. "Well, he seems to think he's your parent or something, so I might as well treat him like one and get permission…"

Shelley glared at him then turned to Kevin, and Kevin could only look on in anger as Nicholas gave a small smug smirk of satisfaction. "You better leave me the fuck alone; you here me, Kevin!? Just stay out of my business and stop treating me like some child that needs babysitting!" She tossed the hair from her eyes and gave him the finger, storming off to hide her bright red, embarrassed face.

Kevin watched her go, feeling the rage build in him more and more. Finally, he felt Nicholas closer to him. He turned his head, surprised to see Nicholas had taken two steps toward him, so he was close enough to grab him by the collar of his shirt. It was daunting, really, to see a mere freshman towering over him. The kid was three years younger than him, for crying out loud!

"It hurts, doesn't it?"

Kevin blinked, noting the bitter look in the Goth's eyes. "Wh-What?"

Nicholas shifted his weight onto one foot and pointed in the direction Shelley had left. "Not being able to do anything to get her to stop hating you. Having to watch some royal prick take her away."

Kevin narrowed his eyes and took a few steps back. "You have issues, dude. Seriously, I have no idea what your problem is, but you have some serious emotional issues." For a while he stood there, watching the anger and indignation flare up in the other teen's eyes until a thought occurred. "Wait. I know what this is about."

He relished how Nicholas's smile faded and his posture turned inward, a sign he was vulnerable now. Kevin grinned. "This is about that Goth chick, isn't it? Kenny was telling me about how she got into a fight with Stan's girlfriend over him recently…" He snickered and shrugged his shoulders. "Whatever, dude. If you're too much of a coward to confront her directly, I can't really blame you for going after Stan's sister. Just know I'm going to kick your ass when all of this is over."

He spun around and started to walk off, glad that his friends had distracted the attention away from them. Maybe he could go find Shelley and apologize… He had to admit, he _was_ acting too much like a–

_Wham._

Before he could even process that Nicholas had tackled him to the ground and spun him around, a fist collided with his face. He mouthed a swear word, unable to actually say anything from the pain. Blood gushed forth from his nose and he coughed, grabbing the taller boy by the folds in the collar of his coat and shoving him to the side, off of him. At the same time, he grabbed his wrist as the younger boy went rolling over.

He spun around, using the fact that he was now standing above him to his advantage, and twisted the Goth's arm around his back. He shoved him forward, causing his chin to go colliding with the tile of the cafeteria floor. Kevin gritted his teeth and shrugged his shoulder, wiping his bloody nose against it. He spat, shoving Nicholas into the ground again, making sure he couldn't move.

"Don't even try it,_ kid_. I'm used to this shit at home so I know how to react, unlike you. Maybe you should try growing up and confront this problem head-on instead of being a total pussy about it and working behind the scenes like some kind of chick. Seriously, you're way too childish for a guy your height."

He let go and stood up, now wiping the blood away with a hand. That was the second time he'd gotten hit in the nose in a week, so it hurt like hell. He didn't think it was broken or anything, but it was going to swell up even more now. He glanced back, pleased to see the Goth kid was now sitting up, looking as if he were about to throw a temper tantrum. The boy also didn't look like he'd try attacking him again; and because the fight was so short and his friends had distracted most of the cafeteria, the teachers never saw a thing.

–––––––––––––

"That fucking asshole…treating _me_ like I'm still nine years old! Like I'm some kid that needs a babysitter! I'll show Kevin I don't need his permission! The second Nicholas asks me again I'm jumping his ass…"

Words of rage kept spilling from her mouth like an uncontrollably fountain. Before she knew it, she had stormed right over to the girl's restroom. She swung the outer door open, paused momentarily at the inner door. She opened it a crack, and a loud, high-pitched chortle soared through the air, causing her to freeze.

"I mean, really, can you believe those two? Both of them are so fucked up, I wouldn't be surprised if it lasted a week…"

"I know. And Shelley's obviously got some sort of repressed anger going on. So they probably do it, like, twice a day or something…"

Shelley stopped and let go of the handle, letting the door close. Her face turned red and she glared. She wasn't like that at all. God damn it, was everyone in this damn town eyeing her like some kind of vicious slut!?

More laughter erupted and clicking footsteps echoed across the bathroom floor, towards the door. Shelley swung around and two-stepped it out of there, though not fast enough. The girls slid by her, glancing at each other and wincing at the tension. One of the girls, short black hair and cherry red lips, gave a half sort-of wave. "Hey, Shelley… Where's your new boyfriend?"

Shelley lifted her chin and took a deep breath, smiled and gave a laugh to hide how much all of this gossip was hurting her. "Oh, I told him to take the day off. Since I'm _obviously_ too rough on him and all… Yeah, usually we try to get another quickie in before lunch, but, you know…" She gave a forced laugh and waved her hand at them bitterly. "Sometimes these things happen!" She laughed and then gave them both the finger, stomping off to the back of the school, to the safety of her car.

For a while she sat there, angry tears spilling all over her cheeks, but soon a shadow passed over her, and she ended it quickly.

"You want to talk about it?"

She glanced up at him, watched him wipe the blood from his chin absentmindedly. She glared and looked away. "No, just leave me the fuck alone…"

He simply sighed and walked around to the passenger's side, slid into the seat beside her. He was quiet for a moment before he leaned the chair back, placing his hands beneath his head. He glanced over at her. "You look like you could use a friend more than a boyfriend right now…"

She sighed, staring out the window, refusing to look at him. "I could also use someone who isn't an asshole right now, but then you had to show up instead…" He chuckled, glancing up at the roof of the car and tracing patterns in it with a clean finger.

"Well, I have to admit I've been an asshole lately…but I was hoping I could apologize for that…" After a while. "Do you forgive me?"

"Sure…whatever…" She sighed, wiping some sticky tears away from her eyes. "I'm too depressed and pissed off to give a shit anymore, Kevin…"

He smiled. "Don't listen to anyone else. I know you. You're not like everyone thinks you are…"

She glanced back at him, gave him a small, but wary, smile. "Oh? And how am I?"

Kevin shrugged his shoulders. "You're just a bit messed up, is all. I don't think you're as bad as you try to make yourself appear…"

Shelley laughed and wiped a tear from her eye. "Yeah, I think you're wrong about that… I'm a real bitch."

"But you're not a slut, and you're not a _true_ bitch. You just don't like talking to people."

"I hate people, and people hate me. I don't understand how to interact with people, I have no manners, I'm loud and crass and all I ever do is treat everyone around me like shit…and did I mention they hate me? That makes me a certified bitch, jackass."

Kevin grinned. "I don't hate you."

She rolled her eyes, glancing out the window. "I'm well aware of that…" After a long, long moment she glanced back at him. "But thanks anyways…" He gave her a warm smile, and she gave him a small smile in return. "Now get the fuck out of my car. You stink like a sewer."

Kevin laughed and stepped out, leaned against the door with a playful smirk on his face. "Ah man! And I thought I was getting somewhere with you! You're harsh, Shelley Marsh!"

Shelley grimaced at the intended rhyme and reached over, yanking the door he was leaning against closed. He stayed there, leaning against the car until finally Nicholas came out of the lunchroom to take his anger out on the side of the building and spotted her car, the figure inside and the asshole leaning against it. He sneered, walked over and gave him a look that said their fist fight was not over.

"What the hell were you trying to do? Comfort her? Sorry, but that's my job." He opened the door and slid in, and after much scuffling, she tossed him out and nearly ran both of their toes over when she peeled out of the parking space and drove home.

Kevin snickered and the mop-topped Goth shot him a dirty look. The brunette just shrugged his shoulders and grinned that holey grin. "May have lost my job, but I haven't lost her yet. You're gonna have to try harder than that, freshman."

And with that, he strode back to the school with a victorious smirk on his face. Eventually she'd find that action figure he "dropped" in her car while re-adjusting the seat. And this time he had a feeling she wouldn't toss it out a window again.

* * *

If you're having trouble figuring out when everything's happening because it seems to be moving too fast, then you're in luck! Next chapter, in the foreword, I'm going out of my way for all of you and writing everything out in a neat little calender. After that, I'm going to leave everything up and keep adding on to the dates, just to help keep you going on the right path.

Will that help anyone? Please send me a review if you think that would help you a lot.


	14. Inside Out

This was going to be a sex chapter, but then somehow it changed into THIS

This was going to be a sex chapter, but then somehow it changed into THIS. I don't know how it happened, but I'm pleased with the results. And another thing I'm pleased with in this chapter is that I was able to make the characters more realistic.

I think my problem is that Henrietta comes out more realistic than Shelley because of the situation she's in. Because of that, I think I have an easier time with her. But I think I did a good job with Shelley in this one. What do you think?

And I don't care what anyone says–hash browns and ketchup is a delicacy where I come from. (Try Redneck Central. And no, I don't mean the Ozarks.)

Oh, and thank Eve 6 for this chapter title. I think it only fits the first half, but whatever.

Oh, and sorry, but my computer's been a bitch ever since I got a new hard drive installed. For some odd reason, there's two new My Documents folders and only ONE of them contains all of the new chapters I'm writing. So now I have to save everything to my freakin' Desktop in order for me to FIND it. GAWD DAMMIT!

Oh, and about that calendar? You aren't going to find it until a little later on, when it starts to get confusing. I think it's fairly easy for you all to figure out right now. It was mainly for my benefit because I'm anal about having continuity and shit. OH YES. And before I forget. Peter is totally supposed to be in Kindergarten, right? So that makes him five while his friends are nine in the show, right? So...have I been getting his age right? Shit.

(Three "Oh,..."s in a row, aren't I grand when I leave out the final draft of the creative process?)

The point of this is to show that Nicholas is probably going to be totally screwed over at the end of this story. And I totally don't mean the good kind of screwed. Like, he's being too much of a dick, no matter how much he's doing this for a purpose. He's like...an anti-villain, almost. Like, not even that. Whatever. I'm rambling, aren't I?

Enjoy the fucking chapter. Hope all of you li'le shits are pleased with it. (I say this with love for you, but anger for my computer, just so you know.)

* * *

"**Inside Out"  
**_Chapter Fourteen_

At five-twenty in the morning, Nicholas woke up, took a shower, shaved, got dressed and picked up his phone. He knew his mother had gotten a school directory when he was still in middle school and she still thought he cared a wick about any of the other kids in his class. It had every middle school student in South Park, even including the fifth graders of the elementary, because South Park was _that_ tiny of a town.

Stan had only been in the sixth grade, but he never changed where he lived or his home phone number, much like everyone else in that god-awful-tiny town. Swallowing a lump in his throat, he dialed the number and waited, preparing for the worst.

After three rings, the phone picked up, and the worst came true.

"Mmmmgarguaflaaaay…"

He stiffened, feeling the hair on the back of his neck prickle, because it was too curly to stand on end like a normal person's, and he fought to keep himself under control–Stan was _not_ a morning person.

"Hello, _Marsh_…"

"Unh…Kyle? Whatteryou call–" He yawned, but didn't finish his sentence, and though Nicholas knew it was just because Stan was dead-tired, he couldn't help but find it incredibly grating on his nerves. The nerve of him–it was impolite to not finish one's sentence, and Stan was the rudest little jack-off in town. At least, at this moment he was.

Nicholas stared at the phone for a while before grinning indignantly. His voice became abrasive; his tone, malicious. "Do I sound like Kyle? No, _Marsh_, now get your fucking sister on the phone."

Silence rang out on the other line until finally he heard Stan mumble a swear. There was a loud thump, as if the prick dropped the phone until, after much shuffling and clatter, Stan breathed heavily into the speaker.

"Wh-Why are you calling? Henrietta said you held a grudge against me ever since I left the group… That self-pitying-bitch part of my life is over, you know…"

Nicholas grimaced and went sour. "Listen, you self-absorbed little twit, not everything is a threat against you–" Oh wow, was he good at lying or what? "–and my business isn't with some jackass like you. This has nothing to do with you; I'm calling your sister. You get her on the line before I get Thorne and Peter to make your life a living hell after I dig up every little piece of dirt you have floating around your sorry little life…_Raven_." He threw out the last word playfully, dangling it before him like bait on a line, waiting for the middle-schooler to bite.

Unfortunately, Stan never bit, and Nicholas's verbal thrashing ended there. From far away, a voice called out. "Get off the phone, turd! It's…five-forty in the fucking morning! Don't give me a reason to make you walk to school today!"

Stan was quiet for a moment before he yelled back, "It's for you, Shelley. It's one of the Goth kids… I think he's calling to try and sell you some razorblades or tear-stained pages from his poetry book… Oh, I remember this one poem he wrote back when I was still part of the group. I should tell it to you: you'd laugh your ass off!" He lowered his voice, so that only Nicholas could hear, adding his own little playful twist. "I'm sorry if Shelley turns down your offer, but she prefers her razors unused. By the way, that poem you wrote back then sucked almost as much as your lyrics…"

The middle-schooler's voice stiffened, and he became serious, his voice lowering, his tone taking on a more threatening air. "I don't know what you're planning, but don't even think about it. You already made Henrietta cry way too many times to count. Don't even think about making my si–"

"Give me the phone, Stan! And quit whispering threats! You aren't threatening at all, daisy-chain!"

There was a shuffle on the other line, followed by an "oof!" and a loud thump, like someone getting punched in the gut, but Nicholas couldn't pay attention to that. His face went pale, and he fought to keep it together. He'd made her _cry_? How–How the _fuck_ could he have done that? He'd spent his entire fucking life sticking up for her, protecting her; Christ, he was the one to first introduce her to Thorne and Peter! He'd spent a fucking month getting them to accept her and now she was more precious to them than he ever could have been!

"Hey, cockface, tell me why you woke me up before I dropkick you at school today."

Those words snapped him out of his reverie, and he fought to find the reason why he'd called in the first place. "Uh… Well, ah…" Ah, revenge. That was it. "Look, I was wondering if I could pick you up and we could have breakfast or something… You wouldn't have to drive Faggy and the Stooges to school or–"

Shelley wheezed. "Pffff…. _Who_? F-Faggy and–"

Nicholas rolled his eyes. "Okay, so that wasn't a good insult, but it's a hell of a lot better than _daisy-chain_. Anyway…you won't have to drive the losers to school and you'll get a free meal out of it. What d'you say?"

Shelley coughed a little. "Ha ha… Okay…but no bad jokes. You need better writers."

Nicholas smiled. "I can't; their contracts don't expire for another eight months."

"_That's_ more like it! Bring _those_ jokes and pick me up in forty minutes."

"Sure thing…" He hung up the phone and wrung his hands together. Forty minutes–just enough time to pick up some necessities at the drug store. Was it worth it? Maybe that–Ugh, he couldn't believe he was even thinking it–maybe that assface was right. Maybe he didn't need to do this… Maybe he could easily apologize or whatever and Henrietta would–

No; she wouldn't. He's already talked to her and she'd refused to believe anything he was saying was true, even though he really _had_ turned a new leaf. She had pulled the neurotic, paranoid, PMSing woman card on him. And Stan wasn't good enough for Henrietta. He was traitorous scum. He was a cock-sucking, butt-fucking cunt rag.

He ran a hand through thick curls, wiping the sweat off his brow in the process. He needed to do it. Destroying Stan had been his goal, in some form or fashion, ever since that asshole felt he was too good for them in the fourth grade. _"Screw you guys, I'm going home." _Honestly–how asshole-ish was _that_?

His phone rang, and he stared at it, the pit of his stomach dropping out. No one but his mother called at this ungodly hour. No one except Henrietta…and that stopped quickly after he entered high school and she decided to take a U-turn on them.

He picked it up hesitantly, and the sounds were grainy, like they were coming from her cell phone. For a while there was silence, and then faint laughter, until finally Thorne's bubbled tenor rang out over the phone. Usually, because he was bi-polar, he was bland and almost tired all the time, unless he was listening to The Misfits, at which point he'd get extremely happy, but not in the same way Henrietta and Peter were able to pull out of him. Henrietta and Peter were always able to make him laugh, and after that happened, he couldn't stop–they always pulled out that bubbly manic side out of him. The only manic side Nicholas was ever able to pull out of him was the violent side. Oh, did that boy need to take medication…

"Nicky! Ha ha ah-heehee! Hey, guess what?? Henrietta _totally_ forgave us! She said she's going to start hanging out with us again! She was spending the night at my house last night, since neither of our parents give a shit, and she wants her Skinny Puppy CD back. Hahaha, since she knew I live closer to you than she does, she figured we'd just walk over this morning."

His voice fainted, like he had looked away from the phone. "Right, Henrietta?" Henrietta mumbled something, and Thorne turned back, his voice booming into the phone. "We're hanging up now! Come on out! We're at your front door!"

The line cut off, and Nicholas's breathing hitched. He practically dashed out of his room to the front door, and even before opening the door he could hear Thorne laughing outside, very faintly. He threw open the door to find Thorne leaning against the wall, Henrietta facing him and trying to grab her phone back. He kept it just out of her reach, until finally she fell into him and stood on her tiptoes, pulling at his arms until he finally let go.

She laughed. "Damn it. You boys grow way too fast! Pretty soon I won't even be able to talk to Peter without looking up…"

Thorne stuck his tongue out playfully and turned his head, finally noticing Nicholas standing outside, almost right next to them, looking a bit perplexed. His grin widened, but Henrietta's faded and she cleared her throat, drawing inward, her posture changing entirely. No longer did she look strong; now she looked insecure.

Thorne grinned wryly, taking it upon himself to look inside. "Hey, Nicky. Your mom gone to work already? She leaves around five and a half, right?" Henrietta hit his arm softly, causing him to turn around, his face puzzled.

Her voice was soft and direct. "That's five-thirty; not five and a half…"

Thorne laughed, and he waved his hand at her. "Whatever. You know I hate having to say all of that."

Nicholas cleared his throat and chuckled a little. "It's easier to say five-thirty, Thorne. Less syllables and everything…"

Thorne tossed his hands in the air. "God, two seconds here and you two are already ganging up on me!" He smiled. "Ah, man. It's good to feel wailed-on again. I haven't felt like this since Henrietta was still part of the group." He leaned over to Henrietta and kissed the top of her hair. "It's good to have you back, H…"

Henrietta gave a stiff smile and walked into Nicholas's house, completely disregarding any of Thorne's over-affection. Her voice was just as stiff as her smile. "Good, let's keep it like old times. I'm only interested in one guy and he's not you, thanks."

Nicholas glared and followed Thorne inside, feeling his stomach twist. "And that would be Stan, right?" Henrietta just gave a small, "Hmmm…", but didn't answer his question. Nicholas turned his anger onto Thorne. "Why the fuck are you in my house?"

Thorne winced. "Ouch, Nicky. Talk about getting harsh all of a sudden. Well, Henrietta wanted her CD back, so…"

"It's in the car."

Henrietta peered out from the corner, where the hallway to Nicholas's room was. She pointed back to the front door. "Thorne, go get it. You know what it looks like, right?" Thorne nodded and walked outside, closing the door behind him.

Silence settled between the two, and Henrietta stayed in the safety behind the wall. Nicholas glanced over at her warily then coughed a little bit. "So… You stayed over at Thorne's house last night?" He chuckled, feeling awkward and all kinds of jealous. "It's not often someone's able to keep him awake all night… Unless you woke him up early…and he doesn't look dead tired or anything." Thorne was never a morning person, but if he stayed up all night Nicholas always could tell because he never seemed tired at all.

Henrietta glared at him. "We watched movies and sang showtunes."

"Why his house…" It was a statement, and it was obvious he was peeved about it. Henrietta glanced over at him, her glare fading and her insecurity taking hold again–he wasn't even looking at her; his eyes were on the ground. She ducked a little bit deeper behind the wall of the hallway.

"…Because Peter was grounded…"

"Well, if you stayed over here, we could have talked out our problems, you know…" He paused, searching for something else to say, but he found he couldn't. So, he just looked back over at Henrietta and waited.

She gave a light, sarcastic chuckle. "You're no fun; that's why. And we already talked out our problems…"

Nicholas looked up at the ceiling, feeling the anger bubbling up again. "No… I recall our conversation was interrupted by Stan the last time…" He looked up at her, and she stared right at him, opening up her mouth. Her eyes crinkled and she looked as if she were about to cry or apologize or something–

Suddenly Big Girl, by Mika, started playing from her pocket.

She cursed and picked up the phone, her voice becoming slightly agitated. "What _is_ it, Mar–" She chuckled worriedly, her eyes drifting towards Nicholas ever so slowly before darting back to her fingernails. "What is it, Stan?" Her smile faded, and she looked back over at the broccoli-headed wonder, her eyes darkening. "Oh, seriously? And she actually _told_ you she was hoping he'd ask her to sleep with him again? Oh, okay…" There was a long pause, and then she nodded. "Bye."

She hung up the phone and stepped over towards the front door, staring at the floor. "Shelley can't take Stan to school today…but you know that already…" She paused at the door for a moment then glanced back at him. "Just so you know… It's bad taste to fuck a girl in her own home. You might want to bring her back here after breakfast…"

The door swung open, nearly hitting her in the back of the head, but she didn't even flinch. Thorne held up the CD victoriously. "I got the CD! Did you guys make out–er, make up??"

Nicholas blinked, confused. "Did you plan on leaving so we could talk, Thorne?"

Thorne grinned. "Maybe. Maybe Henrietta put me up to it… Who knows? You can never tell what people are thinking these days…"

Nicholas turned his eyes to Henrietta. "You can tell me what you're thinking, you know. You don't have to do this. I just… What the hell is going on with you lately??"

Henrietta gave him a small smile. "I can plan stuff, too, you know. So let me ask you–what are you planning? Because if you end up doing something to Stan, you know I'll never forgive you. Thorne and Peter know that; that's why they're going to start sitting with us at lunch, even if they don't like him or his friends. But what about you, Nicholas? Ever since you got into high school you've been acting like you're better than all of us. I thought I'd knock you down a few pegs…" She gave a pretentious laugh, covering her mouth with the corner of her hand and glancing off to the side. "But I suppose if you're trying to bed Stan's sister, you've already fallen pretty low…"

Thorne looked at her, looking worried, and Nicholas's fists clenched. "I never once thought I was better than any you three. Get the hell out of my house, Henrietta. Maybe you should look in a mirror. I'm not the one looking down on Stan's sister."

He walked over and stared down at her, until finally she took a step back into Thorne, her face twisting into something mixed between pain and anger. She glared at him. "I _hate_ you, Nicholas. I fucking **hate** you…but…" Her face fell and Nicholas raised a brow.

"But _what_?"

She glanced over at Thorne for some sort of solitude, some sort of support; her knees felt weak and she felt the ground beneath her bottoming out. "But…I… I'm friends with Thorne and Peter, and since you're also their friend, I have to put up with you."

Nicholas pushed both her and Thorne out the door, nearly knocking Thorne onto his back, since Thorne seemed to refuse to move. Her face went red and she turned around. As she walked off, Nicholas laughed. "Just remember how you met your two best friends, Henrietta! And remember who was always there for you?? Guess what– He's not going to be there anymore! I hope you're happy!"

She turned around, her face bright red. "Shelley's expecting you to ask her to sleep with her! I certainly hope you don't disappoint the poor girl!! God forbid she doesn't get what she _wants_!!" She stormed off down the lawn, and Thorne ran after her.

"Henrietta, wait!! Why are you so angry?? I thought you were going to patch things up with Nicky! Hey!!"

Nicholas walked out, locked up his house and got into his car. What was she saying? What the hell was she talking about? Why bring _that_ up, out of all things, to end their conversation? Why the hell– What the fuck–

He had always felt a sort of pride at knowing what she was thinking, but right now she was just acting so god damn neurotic he had no idea what was on her mind!

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He groaned, poking his hash browns with a fork. "Sorry again for being ten minutes late…" There was a clatter of silverware as Shelley looked up at him from stuffing her cheeks with pancakes.

"No, really, Nicky. It's alright. Besides, you offered to pay for the meal, so that makes up for it."

He shoved his fork into them–God, she was speaking with her mouth full again–and looked back up at her, suddenly aware of what she called him. "What did you say?"

She swallowed, downing the pancakes and easing them down with a glass of milk. "I said we're even."

"No, before that."

She stared at him, puzzled then her face brightened. She poked her fork in his direction. "Well, your friends call you Nicky, right? Well, there's only so many names I can call you without getting old, mainly just your first name. Aren't you tired of being called Dick and Goth-fag? I figured I'd just call you Nicky. Can't get tired of being called that…"

He frowned, picking his fork back up and reaching for the ketchup. "It's rude to point with your silverware."

She shied away, back to her pancakes. "S-Sorry… I forgot…"

He glared at his pancakes. "No, you didn't _forget_. You do that at lunch, too. You really just never _learned_ proper table manners in the first place. Go ahead and admit it."

She frowned, putting her fork down. "I… Okay, you're right. I never learned." Her face turned red. "I never learned not to point my fork at people."

He took a sip of his coffee, sighing. "It goes with all silverware, not just forks. Not to mention you never learned how to swallow your food before speaking…"

She stood up, her face paling. "What the hell is your problem today!? All you've done since you've picked me up is bitch and complain about how I'm acting! I told you to bring jokes, not a bad attitude, asshole!"

He groaned and glanced around at the people staring, then ran a hand through his hair. "Look, just…just sit down. After you called, Henrietta and Thorne came over and I had a shitty argument that left me pissed off, alright? I'm not mad at you…" Shelley sat back down and looked at her food; Nicholas wrung his hands together, feeling awkward. He glanced at her. "Look…if… …Well, is there anything you _want_?"

She looked up at him, confused. "What? What do you mean?"

He looked up at her, stared her straight in the eye. "Well…if there's anything you want…I'd like to give it to you…you know?" He looked back down again, face turning red. "Er, maybe that doesn't make much sense…"

She smiled. "If I could have anything, I'd want to feel comfortable around you. This entire time I've been so frazzled hoping that I don't say or do the wrong thing, and then you get onto me for bad manners and I just end up feeling like shit."

He looked up at her, watched her for a long while, the gears in his head turning. Feeling comfortable, eh? What was with girls and appearances anyway? He couldn't wrap his head around it. A real man didn't care either way if a girl was a little bit flawed. He shrugged his shoulders and plopped some ketchup onto his hash browns, tossed his fork off to the side.

She stared at him for a moment, and he folded the hash browns over the ketchup, attempting to mix it up as best as he could. Then, he proceeded to eat with his hands. She burst out laughing, watching him.

"Wh-What the fuck are you doing, Nicky?"

She laughed again and he looked up, gave her a small smile. "Well, you're worried about doing the wrong thing, but how can you do the wrong thing when your date is eating with his hands?" She burst out laughing, and he continued, even going so far to not even use a napkin.

After a moment, she stopped laughing and stared at her food. "God, that sure does look fun…"

He looked up and chuckled. "Actually, it's kind of gross. I feel like an animal…"

Shelley burst out laughing and tore a piece off of her pancakes. "Well, I don't see a sign up or anything, so I guess it's alright to feed you…" She reached over and shoved the piece in his mouth and he grimaced swallowing it. She snickered again. "What? Do you not like pancakes?"

He sat up straighter, wiping at his mouth. "No, it's just there was too much syrup on that and now it's going to get everywhere…" He groaned and grabbed for a napkin, standing up. "Dammit, now I'm paranoid. I need to go wash my face…"

Shelley looked at him, inspected his face, but could find nothing wrong. "Well, there's really nothing wrong; I don't see what you're so worried about…"

He cleared his throat. "I never told you before, but I'm a bit of a perfectionist. Being a neat freak is just part of it, so I really feel like I have to go wash my face…"

She rolled her eyes. "Trust me; I knew you were a bit of a perfectionist without having to hear it from the horse's mouth…"

He glared, but left all the same. She smiled a little and reached over the table, picking up his fork and placing it back on his plate. She didn't know what the hell Kevin had meant–she wasn't changing for Nicholas at all. Of course, she had wanted the Grand Slam and instead just got pancakes, but that wasn't anything like he had said, right?

He came back and looked around at the now-empty restaurant. "Hey, Shelley, you mind if we run out on the bill? I'll just be asking them to put it on my tab, but I like to think of it as running out on the bill…"

Shelley looked at him then snorted. "What are you? Some kind of rebel without a cause? That's not even a rebel kind of thing… That's just plain lame! Jesus, you're like an old geezer! You even go out for the Early Bird Special and everything!"

He frowned. "_Thanks_; I went from a toddler to an old man in just two minutes…" He straightened the collars of his coat officially and cleared his throat. "And for your information, I didn't order the Early Bird Special; I just ordered hash browns…"

She just kept on laughing. "Maybe we should take these home and put them in a blender for you… Would that be easier for your weak gums? Maybe if we're lucky we can add in a double serving of fiber for your poor elderly tummy… You _poor_ thing…"

He just rolled his eyes. "Yeah, and while we're at it I can teach you some table manners… Making pictures on the table with your spaghetti got old when you turned four, young lady."

She burst out laughing and stood up, grabbing his hand. "Well, let's go, assface."

He sighed. "Just call me Nicky from now on…"

She shook her head, letting go of his hand and walking towards the exit. "No way, _Cupcake_. I have to retain some of that bitchiness from before or else I'd just feel weird. Now go finish up with the bill and hurry up, alright?"

He shot a glare over in her direction as she left. Was she calling him Cupcake as a joke or was she being serious? That was probably the most retch-worthy title he could ever hear coming from someone's mouth. The way she said it, she sounded like she was just trying to poke fun at him, but after that whole incident with Henrietta, he had no earthly idea what chicks were thinking anymore.

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"Well, we've got a few movies, but my favorites are in my room. Mind if I go get them?"

Nicholas shook his head pathetically as she dashed up the steps, and he took it upon himself to go over to a stereo over by the television and check it out. There were a few CD's scattered here and there–most of them were for old people: lots of _Kansas_ and Bob Dylan, some _Rush_ and _Aerosmith_. He sneered a little, catching a glimpse of some CD's that looked like Stan's–_Fall Out Boy_, _Jimmy Eat World_, _Death Cab for Cutie_ and _Simple Plan_.

There was a single CD sitting on top of the stereo, one labeled _Iron Maiden_. It was the Piece of Mind album. He glanced over at the stairs for a moment then picked it up. He opened up the case, stared at the CD inside it. For some reason, he was having an almost uncontrollable urge to hurl it against the wall, but he knew that would be less-than-gentlemanly. God, did this entire family have to have such bad taste in music?

Shelley trounced down the steps and Nicholas shot his hand back to the stereo, nearly chunking the CD behind the table it was resting on. She held up a few movies and walked over next to him. "Sorry some of them are VHS tapes; I like my movies like some people like their music. Now, I have a few movies that I love to watch, but every time I try to watch them, Stan stands up and freaks out, and my parents end up letting him choose a movie…"

"What are they?"

"_Better Off Dead_ and _Say Anything_. I really don't see what he has against John Cusack, but he must have if he hates his movies so much…"

"Huh." He reached over, grabbing some of the movies from her. "Um…no…no…no… …Are you serious?" She looked over to see him staring at a VHS tape like it was the Holy Grail. He looked at her, pointing at the title. "_The Hunger_. Are you _serious_? Did you know that Bauhaus performed 'Bela Lugosi's Dead' in this movie?"

Shelley stared at it for a moment before smiling and pointing to the effeminate man on the cover. "I only like it because of Bowie. He's got some pretty amazing skills, you know?"

Nicholas just sighed, shrugging his shoulders and wishing he were dead. "Yeah…I guess…" He then glanced back at her. "So, which one do you want to watch?"

"Can we watch _Better Off Dead_?"

He bit his lip, cursing her with every bad word he could come up with in his mind, giving her a soft smile all the while. "Sure…"

They settled down on the couch, his arm around her shoulder casually, though inside he had no idea what the hell he was doing–This was how normal people dated, right?–and she was just as nervous. About halfway through the movie, just to break the tension, Shelley looked up at him.

"By the way, I'm sorry about the pictures…"

He glanced over, obviously confused. "What pictures?"

"Maybe you don't remember because so much shit has happened since then, but I was going to give you some pictures for you to use to mess with Stan's head, remember?"

He glanced up at the ceiling, taking it in and trying his hardest to block out the most retarded chick flick in the history of chick flicks, until finally he remembered. "Oh yeah! I remember that. What ended up happening? Did you find anything?"

Shelley laughed manically, trying to calm herself down and gain some sense of control on the entire situation. "W-Well, see, it turns out he had a picture of him and Kyle in his room, and on the back, Kyle had written some inside joke with lipstick and kissed it and everything. Just thought I'd let you know…"

His eyes narrowed, and a sly smile crept over his mouth. "Wait, the Jewish kid was wearing _lipstick_?"

"Mine, actually. They were trying to piss me off. I have to hand it to them: I had to throw everything out because I wasn't sure what he ended up using…"

"What did he write on the back of the picture?"

"Something about Wendy not knowing they were an item or something. It was just an inside joke or something. I'm pretty sure my brother's not _actually_ gay, you know?" She laughed again, and Nicholas cleared his throat, sliding out from her.

"Where's your bathroom?"

"Oh, it's up the stairs, right across from my room. You can't miss it. There's only four doors up there. Oh…and watch out for Sparky. He's Stan's gay dog. He likes hiding under his bed and I haven't seen the little shitbag all day."

Nicholas nodded and walked up the stairs, trying his best not to burst out laughing. All he needed was that picture.

–––––––––––––

The first room he found was Shelley's. He took one look at the Flash figurine sitting on the windowsill and made a direct U-turn–Why the hell was he interested in her again? Oh yeah, she didn't give a shit about anyone or anything. That was it.

Right at the end of the hall was Stan's room, and as he looked down at the pictures, he picked up the picture Shelley had described. He turned it over, noticing a little fold of a piece of paper sticking out of it.

"Hello… What's this?"

He opened up the frame, unfolded the paper and his face grew more and more bright.

Yes. Yes. Yes. A thousand fucking "yes"s. This was perfect. This was fucking _perfect_. And he knew _just_ who to give it to so that Henrietta would _never_ find out it was him who spread it around school.

Now to get the infernal mutt off of his leg…


	15. Fumble

Fumble by Architecture in Helsinki, for the song. The song sounds completely innocent, until you look at the lyrics, which fit the content of this entire chapter _perfectly_.

Um… AiH is a lot like The Cure in that the music would be better with a different vocalist(s, in AiH's case)… But, also like The Cure, without the sorta bad vocalist, the song just wouldn't be as amazing… (Maybe you don't understand a word of what I'm trying to say.) But yeah. Forget what I said about Tea Party and Siouxsie and the Banshees. If you're looking for music that is _way, way, __**way**_ different from what you've heard before, check them out. They've got this really unique sound that's funky and…um…f-fresh at the same time. (Did I just say _funky and fresh_? What the hell??)

Whatevs. About the chapter now, bitches.

This chapter was annoying. What am I supposed to do? Should I bring Kevin into this? No. He's taken something of a break ever since Shelley kicked Nicholas from her car. Let's just say he's in the background, waiting for her to see the light of reason or something. He's definitely got a "Fire in the Head" mentality going on here. (Tea Party.)

What about Henrietta? What about the other Goth kids? Where the fuck is Stan and what is he doing right now? And for that matter, where the hell is Kyle and why is he being so god-damn quiet for once?

This is focused on Henrietta. The next chapter will hopefully be about Stan and Kyle. Hopefully. Sorry this was so short, but I felt it was better by itself. I almost joined this chapter with the next one. Would that have been better?

Oh, and sorry this is so full of angst. e.e; I can't even say I'm proud of it. I pretty much just brought up the same shit, but it's important for Henrietta and Shelley's characters. It's showing they're trying to change, but they are having _so_ much trouble changing. (It's also showing that Nicholas is reverting back to his old ways. Ha ha. That rapscallion.)

This takes place the day after the last chapter (Chapter 14). And what Peter talks about in this chapter (the drink) happened when Shelley went with Nicholas to meet his two little friends in Chapter 8.

Expect some Stan and Kyle lovin' in the next chapter. (Not really. But expect some Stan lovin' Kyle in the next chapter.)

( I would have submitted this chapter yesterday, but I got into some severe "It's Five!" mantras after listening to too much Architecture in Helsinki and I just couldn't drop down to the emotionally depressed level in order to write something so angsty. Sorry my peeps. The muses involved in writing are so, so fickle.)

* * *

**"Fumble"  
**_Chapter Fifteen_

She walked through the door, feeling completely out of place. There was the littlest Goth kid sitting in the corner, all decked in black with his hair flipped over one eye; there, near the corner, right beside him, was the Goth that seemed to enjoy poking fun at them and insulting her, all black- and red- streaked crazy-hair, like some defunct 80's look gone horribly, _horribly_ wrong; there, sitting right next to him and speaking in hushed whispers, was the only girl in their group, all thick and busty at the same time, with her swept black hair that she decided to give one big white streak down the side to add to her "emo-scene" look; and all of them decked out in black mascara and eyeliner, faces painted white and morose looks gracing their pitiful faces.

And her date? Well, he, God fuck him, had chosen to dress _exactly the fucking same as them_ minus any make-up.

What was a girl to do? _Especially_ a girl who was wearing bright pink spandex tights complete with lime green shorts and a yellow top! She'd even gone out of her way to frizz up her hair just the way she liked it–all over the place crazy!!

Honestly, it was like a rainbow crayon falling into an ink bottle.

She raised a brow and smirked, forgetting she was on _their_ turf, now. "Wow? Aren't you three a bunch of little trouble-makers? Get sent to the corner, did we?"

Thorne, the only other boy besides the tall one and the tiny one, snorted, turning to Henrietta. "Isn't she a riot?"

Henrietta just rolled her eyes, glaring at the outsider from the corner of her eye. "More like she wants to _start_ a riot…" She turned to the two and smiled. "Glad you could make it. I've been wanting to meet Stan's sister personally. Tell me, how'd your parents come up with the name Shelley?"

Shelley just shrugged, taking a spot over by the wall and leaning against it. "To be honest, I haven't a clue. How'd your parents come across the name Henrietta?"

She smiled, her glossed lips curling upward in a sort of winning smirk. "They thought it sounded sophisticated."

Shelley just yawned, waving a hand at her. "Okay, Miss Sophistication. My little brother's a pretty fragile guy. Try not to fuck him before he's ready. Poor guy can't handle much…"

The ex-Goth's face fell, and she turned back to Thorne, giving him a false smile, her voice overly-innocent. "Oooh, I _like_ her… She's just so _charming_."

Peter glanced over at Shelley and smiled. "Hi. Do you remember me? I'm Peter. I'm the kid you…accidentally spilled your drink on at Benny's…"

Shelley's face brightened a bit and she crept over to him, eyeing him, but not touching him. "Oh! Yes, I'm very sorry about that. I honestly didn't see you. You're so tiny."

Peter's face fell, but he gave a quick recovery smile, trying to hide his hurt. Henrietta just glared at her, along with Thorne and Nicholas. Shelley sighed, shutting up. She was terrible when it came to talking with people. She was just too mean all the time, even when she was honest-to-God trying to be nice. She sat there and looked away, feeling like shit.

How could she make them warm up to her? How could she make them like her? It was imperative she learn; how else was she going to get any better?

She glanced over at him, giving him a smile. "Sorry. That sounded mean. What I mean is, you're tiny, like a little…er…teddy bear. Like a small little baby…panda…"

He glanced at her, not looking any better. "A…panda."

Thorne grinned, shooting up and picking up Peter, and swirled him around in the air. "Yes! A panda! I've always wondered why he looks familiar, but you're right! A panda is _totally_ what he reminds me of!"

Henrietta glared at the older boy and yanked on his pant leg. "Thorne… He's always been a little bat, hasn't he?"

Thorne turned around, suddenly falling silent. "Oh…well…" He plopped Peter on the ground, not even giving Shelley a second thought. "You're right, you know. Probably a panda is a bit much for him… White's never been Pete's colour… A bat totally fits Peter better."

Henrietta smiled. "Of course it hasn't. White's too bright for our little baby bat…"

Shelley glanced over at Nicholas, pleading with her eyes for him to step in and say something, but he was too busy staring at Henrietta, his face showing absolute concentration. After a while, Nicholas cleared his throat. "Shelley's right. Pete the Panda. I guess that's his new nickname."

Henrietta shot him a glare, and the taller Goth's lips curled up into a smile as Thorne's eyes darted over to Henrietta momentarily before back over to Pete, recognition in his face. Nicholas smiled and looked at Thorne easily. "What do you think, Thorne? Is Peter a panda or what?"

Thorne glanced at Henrietta, but Nicholas cleared his throat again, forcing his attention back on him. "Say, Thorne…let me ask you… What do you think of…Henrietta? She certainly looks like…a little white _piggy_, wouldn't you agree…?"

Henrietta stood up, her eyes glaring daggers. "What the hell do you mean by that??"

Shelley glanced up at the ex-Goth girl, not afraid to say it. "He's saying you're fat and eat a lot." Henrietta gasped and looked at her, her expression completely crumbling into despair, but Shelley thought for a moment then continued, completely oblivious to her hurt. "Well, it could also mean you don't move around a lot… Because pigs are stuck in pens all the time."

Nicholas glared. "Shelley! I didn't ask what _**you**_ thought! I was asking Thorne!"

Shelley stood up, slapping him across the face. "Oh, so I can't speak up just because he's too much of a coward to say it!? Fuck you, Nicholas! I'm walking home! Don't even bother trying to beat me out the door!" She stormed out, and Henrietta stormed after her, being sure to slam the door behind her, screaming at it.

"Yeah, you better get out of here, you…you bitch!"

Nicholas turned around, and when she turned around to go back to her spot next to Thorne, their eyes locked onto each others, not breaking for a second. Her face crumbled again, but she couldn't look away as she stood there, rooted to the spot. Nicholas's eyes narrowed, his voice became low and threatening.

"You have no right to be angry, Henrietta. You _know_ you were setting everything up to make her feel uncomfortable. You _know_ Thorne was going to change his mind because before we got here you _told_ him to agree only with what you said…_didn't you_?? What _you_ don't understand is that it's extremely obvious to me what you're up to. So just tell me this, Henrietta–_why the fuck are you trying to be so cruel to Stan's sister?_"

She looked away, on the verge of tears, and Nicholas snapped his fingers. "Fucking _look at me_, Henrietta! Why the fuck are you setting out to make her feel like shit!?"

Henrietta's eyes turned to Thorne, and Thorne stood up. "Nicholas…"

He spun around. "I didn't ask _you_ to stick up for her, did I!?" He spun back around, asking her again, this time walking right up to her and holding her shoulder against the door. "What the hell do you have against Shelley!?"

Tears fell from her eyes and she shoved him off her, suddenly growing angry. "What the hell do you have against _Stan_!? Why the fuck do you hate him so much!? He's never done shit to you, yet you've been throwing a hissy-fit ever since he left the group _four fucking years_ ago!! _Four years_, Nicholas! I know you're one to hold grudges, but four fucking _years_!? What do you have against him!?"

"Because ever since he came around, you've been acting so fucking strange, Henrietta! You smacked Thorne and Peter across the face when they were _defending_ you!! What the hell is _wrong_ with you!? You're not even acting like yourself anymore, and it's pissing all of us off!! And now, just because you know how much Thorne and Peter care about you, you're forcing them to hang out with people they don't want to have anything to do with just so you'll talk to them!? Seriously, have you even _thought_ about how you're treating us!? Sure you come back to us, but with what!? With _rules_!? Who made you the fucking leader all of a sudden!?"

Henrietta burst out laughing. "So you agree that there's _rules_?? When you were leader, all it was was just one rule right after the other! 'Don't listen to this music, it's not Goth!' 'Don't dress like that, that's not Goth!' 'You can't say that, that's not Goth!'–" Her eyes narrowed and she pointed at the door. "–I'm sick of you and your goddamn rules, Nicholas! Now get the fuck out of my house!"

Nicholas smiled and went to the door, leaning towards her. "'I miss _seeing_ you so much, I wanna slice my eyes out with razorblades…'–" He let that sink in, her own words echoing in her head until finally she looked like she was going to cry. "–You were _just_ like the rest of us with my so-called _rules_, so don't even _give_ me that bullshit. I'll get the fuck out of your house, but just know you're _just_ as bad as I am."

He swung the door open and stormed out of the house, and Henrietta stood there, her mouth gaping open, before she slammed the door and turned to the two boys sitting off in the corner, just staring off into space, forgetting they were even there.

Her face fell and she burst into tears. "I know…" She spun around and kicked the door as hard as she could, letting out ever ounce of anger and guilt in that kick. "You think I don't _know_ that!? Of course I've known it! I've always known it, you arrogant piece of shit!! So why the fuck aren't we getting along!?" She coughed, fighting not to take her anger out on the two friends walking over towards her to ask her what was wrong. "Why are we…at each other's throats??"

She sighed, wiping tears from her cheeks, ignoring the mascara bleeding all over her face. "You guys can go. There's really no point for you to be here. Don't even bother coming back if you don't want to…"

Peter trembled. "B-But we want to come back… Why _wouldn't_ we want to come back? You're our friend…"

Thorne frowned. "Yeah…We're not just going to leave while you're hurting like this…"

She coughed again, fumbling around in her pocket for a cigarette. "Because I'm a bitch! I'm not taking any of _you_ into consideration, am I!? So just leave! He's right! I'm just forcing you to hang out with them because I want you both to change!"

Thorne frowned, walking over and wrapping his arms around her. "We'll change when we feel like it. You aren't forcing us to do anything… We're doing all this for you, for Nicky, for the group… We want the group back to the way it was just as much as you do… And sure you're using pretty sneaky means of doing that, but we'd do the same thing if we were in your position…"

She sniffled, wrapping her arms around his shoulders and gripping him tightly. "God, I don't deserve you guys…"

Peter smiled. "Yes, you do. Besides, I have nothing against Stan or his friends… Well…except for maybe _Cartman_…"

–––––––––––

Cartman was right in the middle of a video game when his doorbell rang. He looked up, glaring. "Moooooooom!! The doorbell's ringing!!"

A few minutes passed and the doorbell rang again; he looked up, glared. "Mooooom! The doorbell is ringing!! Answer the door!!"

He went back to his game, until the doorbell rang again. Finally, he stood up, muttering insults directed at his mother. "God damn it, mom… Not answering the doorbell… I'm killing soldiers right now…" He tromped down the steps, nearly causing the walls to shake as he did so.

He went to the door, opened it. "What the _fuck_ do you want, you black asshole!?"

No one was there save for a rock with a little scrap of paper under it. He bent down. "Hello… What's this? More blackmail, I see… I've been getting a lot of these ever since I put that ad up…" He nudged the rock over, picked up the paper underneath it.

There, in neatly written cursive, was a note:

"_Make copies and spread these around school. I found this in Stan's room. You want to get on Wendy's good side, right? This'll make her forget all about Stan."_

And still, underneath that note, was another piece of paper. On it was a list. His eyes brightened and he burst out laughing. "Oh my God!! This is great! Hahhahaha!! That fag; I knew it!! In love with th-the _Jew_!? Hahahahaahaaaa!! This is so _great_!! I gotta– No… I can't go tell those guys… I gotta go to Kinko's!!"

He spun around, fumbling around the house blindly and trying to keep himself from doubling over. "Moooooooom!! I need to go to Kinko's!! Moooom!!" He tripped over a table, breaking it to pieces, but that couldn't stop him now.

Nothing could stop him now.


	16. Overweight

Man, I submitted this before even picking a suitable title for this. But yeah. I finally found a suitable title for this chapter, so it all works out (I tend to come up with fitting songs _after_ I write the chapters. So that I don't end up just doing a recap of the song.) The title is "Overweight" after a song by Blue October. The song is amazing. Go listen to it. -hearts and flowers- Here's a link:

In the URL, just go to Youtube like normal, then, at the very end of the .com/ part, just put this: watch?vnZS4AlvciPs  
(It's Final Fantasy and shit, but try to ignore that if you aren't a fan.)

And if anyone can tell me if there is an actual way to get a god-damn link to somewhere in the fanfic hidden in this freakin' site, please let me know. It's pissing me off.

Oh and enjoy this chapter. It's not my best, but it certainly wins the reward for doing something different than the other chapters. (It starts out in Kyle's perspective.)

* * *

**"Overweight"  
**_Chapter Sixteen_

Kyle groaned, wiping the crusties from his eyes and looking over at his clock. From the hallway, he could hear his mother shrieking at Ike to get ready for school. If there was one thing he hated more than Cartman, it was waking up to _that_ banshee. So, he hopped out of bed and opened his bedroom door, poking his head out groggily.

"Mom, I'm awake."

She spun around, nodding her head. "Thank you, bubbe. Now I just need to get your brother awake." Before she could turn back around and start yelling, Ike clambered out of his room, dashing into the bathroom before Kyle took the rest of the morning doing God-knows-what he did in there for _four_ freakin' hours.

"I'm…I'm awake, too, mom!"

She smiled and tromped down the steps. "Oh, my boys are just _so_ well-behaved! Kyle, be sure you invite Stan over for dinner sometime! I haven't seen him in a while!"

Kyle smiled, his face growing a little brighter. "You mean it?"

"Of course I mean it! Now get dressed, bubbe."

He went to his closet, got out his outfit for the day and then set out to finish his homework while waiting for his brother to finish up in the bathroom. About four minutes later, his brother walked out, yawning tiredly and going back to bed. Kyle stood up and went to the bathroom, did his business and went to the mirror, shutting his eyes and repeating the mantra he said every morning.

"Please…please, please, please let me like what I see…"

He cautioned a look into the mirror and went slack-jawed. "Oh God… Whyyyyyy!?" He pulled at the beach ball of tangles sitting atop his head like a cotton ball from hell. It would take at least an _hour_ to get that fucker out. It _always_ took an hour.

As he sulked and went for his brush, he stopped, doing a double-take. Was that… He leaned his face closer, turned his chin to the mirror. There it was, all red and curled. He nearly jumped up in the air. "Yesssss! It's there! It's there!!" He pumped his fist in the air and ran into his brother's room. "Ike!! I have finally taken a turn for the better!"

Ike looked up groggily. "Wha–?"

"Look! Just look!" He went over, showing off his chin-hair, looking quite proud of himself. Ike stared at it for a while then gave him a look that obviously showed he thought he was crazy.

"You woke me up for _this_? When you get a full chin of it like Dad's, _then_ you can wake me up…"

Kyle glared and stomped out. "You don't underst–" He nearly had a heart attack, suddenly seeing his mother standing there in the hallway with shining eyes.

"Oh, bubbe!! My boobala's becoming a man!!"

He took a step back, preparing to dodge for the inevitable lunge-and-hug. "Mom, _how'd_ you even hear me!? How'd you know why I was making such a big–" She cut him off in a fierce hug, and he decided he should just make it easier on himself and shut up for the rest of the morning.

–––––––––––––

His father was on the phone with a client, late for work and getting Ike to school, and his mother was telling Ike to drink all of his milk when Kyle heard the horn of Shelley's car begin honking. He stood up, kissed his mother on the cheek, and dashed out the door, "completely forgetting" his lunch.

Before his mother could complain, he hopped into the car, forgetting to buckle up and shouted at Shelley to go. She was happy to indulge his orders, and he turned to look at his friends.

"You'll _never_ guess what happened! I just–" They both turned, and he saw that Stan was sporting a fairly nasty-looking black-eye. Kyle's jaw dropped. "Stan, what the hell happened!? Did—Oh my God!" He turned to the front seat, glaring daggers. "Shelley! What the hell did you do to Stan!?"

Shelley glared. "I didn't do _anything_, you little shithead! Stop jumping to conclusions! It was a fucking accident!"

Stan smiled. "Seriously, dude. It was an accident."

"Why are you _hiding_ it, Stan!? You shouldn't go easy on her just because she's your sister! If Ike pisses me off, I don't let him get away with it; I let him know how mad I am at him! You need to stop acting like such a fucking girl!"

Stan winced, turning to Kenny. Kenny just leaned back, stretching his arms and legs slightly. "Look, Kyle, I'd prefer to get a ride to school rather than walk, so could you make a fuss about it later?"

Kyle huffed, glaring and resigning himself to his seat. Besides, he could bully Cartman when he hopped in the car. After all, nobody rocked the boat quite like fatass.

However, Cartman wasn't waiting at the curb like usual. And when Stan went to the door, his mother wasn't even there. Cartman had gotten to school earlier. He was already at school. Kyle glowered, venting his frustration on his backpack, pulling at a thread idly, viciously.

"That fatass… I swear…he's going to get it at school…"

––––––––––––––––

Kyle walked up to the table, carrying one of the free lunches Kenny had told him about. Well, it was a dollar since he wasn't part of their "feeding the poor white trash" program, but Kenny had been willing to give him the dollar he found in his brother's sock that morning.

Stan was in the middle of telling Henrietta something.

"So my dad decided it would be a good idea to get out the old record player from the attic, and I happened to walk by _right_ as he was getting it down. Needless to say, I didn't see him, and he sure as hell didn't see _me_, so–_Whomp_! I get the biggest fucking black eye of my life. You know the swelling was even _worse_ than this! Can you believe that!? I was in pain for the whole night!"

Henrietta winced, laughing. She glanced up at Kyle, choosing to ignore him, and looked back at Stan, staring straight into his eyes. "Oh, you poor thing!" She reached over and stroked Stan's cheek, pursing her lips. "…My poor baby…"

Stan looked up. "Oh, hey, Kyle…" He stroked Henrietta's hand absentmindedly before setting to bury himself into his lunch.

Kyle sat down, chuckling. "So, I guess I really _did_ jump to conclusions this morning, huh? It's just…Shelley used to beat you up all the time. It's hard to see her suddenly stop all of a sudden."

Stan laughed mildly, not even removing his face from his peas. "Well, she's slapped me around a few times, but it's never been anywhere as serious as it was before… I think…I think you really moved something in her, dude."

Kyle smirked. "Hmmm… Well, that's good. I'm just glad you aren't getting the shit beaten out of you at home. I really would've thought she would have stopped after she got her braces taken out. That's why she started in the first place, right?"

Henrietta pursed her lips venomously, poking at her chicken with a spork. "Old habits die hard, though, right?"

Kyle looked up. "Hmmm? What do you mean by that?" Before she could answer, he noticed Cartman and Kenny walk up. "Hey, Kenny. …Hey, fatass…"

Kenny sat down, pointing at him with his fingers in pistols. "Bang bang." Kyle burst out laughing, and Stan looked over.

"What's so funny?"

Kyle snorted. "Well, see, it's…it's just this inside joke and all…"

Stan smiled weakly, returning to his food. "Hmm…I sure would've liked to be a part of that…"

Kyle suddenly remembered his news and brightened considerably. "Guys, you'll never believe what happened!! I got my first chin hair! I'm in my fourth stage of becoming a man!"

Henrietta made a face, looking at her food as if she had lost her appetite; Kenny let out a holler that caused a few others to look over; and Cartman just snickered. "Oh, well, I guess you're a late bloomer, Jew-fag. I got _my_ first chin hair last year… I even shave now…"

Right as the other two Goth kids walked up, Henrietta leaned over to Cartman, her face full of delight. "Oh? Maybe that's just because you have enough hormones to power a stadium full of prepubescent girls…"

He put his plasticware down as the Goth kids exchanged high fives with her as she looked both joyed and surprised all at once. "Oh, hell no! Are you guys gonna _take_ this!? First fatty Goth chick and now her little minions decide to sit with us! Shit!! Our table's turning into a fucking storm cloud!!"

The littlest Goth gave Henrietta a protective hug, sticking his tongue out at the fat lard, as the older Goth made thundering sounds, waving his hands around like rain falling. The littlest Goth nuzzled the girl, smiling. "Why don't _you_ leave? We're staying with Henrietta, and I doubt Stan's gonna make her leave…" He glared at the other black-haired boy with hair covering one eye, and Stan shook his head.

"There's no way I'm making my girlfriend sit at another table…"

Cartman stood up, looking more aggravated than normal. "Why are all of you acting so _normal_ you guys!?" He stormed off, leaving his food to the vulture, Kenny, and the three Goth kids exchanged looks.

Thorne looked over at Kyle. "We're not acting–" He gave an over-dramatic gasp. "–_normal _are we??"

Kyle just gave a perturbed smile, looking back to his food and mumbling a quiet, "As if you three _could_ act normal…"

Thorne grinned, hearing all he needed to hear. "Still, I wonder what fatso meant by that?"

–––––––––––––––

Clyde walked by snickering, and Stan groaned, suddenly turning to Henrietta. "Okay, that's the _seventh_ time today!! Henrietta, have you noticed anything different today, too?? I just feel like everyone's watching me and it's starting to piss me off…"

Henrietta frowned, looking uncomfortable. "Well…I may have seen some flyers around, but it's nothing too upsetting…"

Kenny looked up. "Yeah, I heard Bebe talking to Red today about some flyers posted around the school, but when I asked them about it, they shut up. Maybe you've been blacklisted, dude…"

Stan glared. "What!? How could I have been _blacklisted_!? I haven't done anything! And what is this crap you're giving me, Henrietta!? What's going to upset me if I find out about it!? Everyone in this school is fucking crazy!"

Kyle leaned over, placing a hand on his friend's shoulder, and suddenly almost all the sound in the cafeteria came to a screeching halt. The two boys exchanged bewildered looks as they glanced around, noticing people staring. Stan went pale and shoved Kyle off of him. "What the hell…"

At that moment, Wendy strode over, Bebe giggling at her side. She leaned over to Stan. "Stan, I thought it was _weird_ that you'd break up with me all of a sudden, and I always thought it was weird that I always had to initiate anything, but I think I understand it now…"

Kyle looked over at Stan. "What is she talking about, Stan? You said she couldn't keep you off of her…"

Wendy's face brightened, and Stan could see Henrietta's expression just darken even more. She smiled. "Oh!! So it's true then!? Well, that makes everything obvious now!"

Stan glared, standing up. "Wait, what the fuck is going on?? Is there something no one's telling me? What are you _talking_ about? What's obvious now!?"

Wendy blinked, glancing over at Bebe for a moment before turning back to her ex-on-and-off-boyfriend. "You mean you haven't noticed the flyers yet?" She pulled out a piece of paper all crumpled, and handed it to him. "It was on my locker this morning. I'm surprised there wasn't one on yours…"

Stan looked at it, a piece of paper with very scribbled handwriting of, "From the Desk of Stan Marsh," at the top, and below a well-ordered list, in his handwriting. He paled, staring at the sheet for another moment. "What…" It was his list. It was his fucking _list_. Who– How– He looked up at Wendy, swallowing all hesitance in him and turning it into hurt and disappointment. "You don't actually _believe_ this trash, do you?"

Wendy frowned. "But Stan, it's in _your_ handwriting. And it says–"

He threw the piece of paper away from him, not even noticing it landing right in Kyle's food. "I know what it _says_, Wendy!! I thought you were smarter than the girls at our school, but it's obvious you were sucked into some stupid rumor just as easily as _Bebe_ over there!" He pointed at Bebe, earning a glare from the two girls. "Henrietta knew about it, right!?" Henrietta nodded and he chuckled. "She didn't believe it because she's smarter than that! Why do you think I chose her over _you_!?"

Wendy glared. "But it's in _your_ handwriting, Stan! I have enough love letters from you to know exactly what your handwriting looks like, and that handwriting–"

He laughed. "Some shithead with too much time on his hands forged my handwriting!! Or _maybe_ it wasn't a _he_! Maybe it was _you_, Wendy! You certainly have been acting spiteful enough to pull a dirty trick like this!!"

Wendy glared, then stomped off, pulling Bebe along behind her. Stan looked around, glaring at all of the stares he was attracting. "Well!? What the fuck are all of _you_ looking at!? There's nothing to see here!" They all turned around and he slunk down into his seat. He glanced at Henrietta, showing everything that was on his mind and hoping she could see it in his eyes the severity of the prank.

She cleared her throat and patted his hand affectionately, yet understanding, at the same time. He gave a sigh of relief and glanced over at the other members of his table. "None of you guys believe it, right?"

Kyle was staring at the paper in front of him, going through the list–the list about _him_–and hiding a smile. He glanced over at Stan, practically beaming. "Dude, whoever went out of his way to pull something like _this_ really had a lot of time on his hands. This fits your handwriting to a T."

Stan smirked, trying to play it off as a joke. "I know, _right_!? It looks just like it, doesn't it!?"

Kyle went back to the list. "Actually, I've been meaning to ask… What _do_ you think of my hair, Stan? I was thinking about getting it cut short."

Stan shook his head. "Don't even, dude! Your Jew-fro is _awesome_, dude! Just like it says on this piece of trash paper!"

Kyle frowned. "But it's a bitch in the morning. It takes hours to get it looking _this_ manageable, and it's not even all that convincing…"

Stan smirked. "Whatever you do, you do pretty fucking well, dude. Your hair's amazing."

The two Goth kids exchanged looks and started making kissy noises at the two; Henrietta slapped them. "I can't believe _you_ two would believe something like that. Finish eating. Both of you need to put a little meat on your bones."

Thorne groaned, poking at his fishsticks disdainfully. He gave her an impish face of fake drama. "But I'll get _fat_ just like Cartman…" Peter made a face and held his nose after sniffing his peas, following Thorne's lead like he usually did.

Kenny burst out laughing, and the two Goth boys exchanged pleased looks. Henrietta smiled, giving them each a loving pat on the back. "Looks like your integration into this group was a success, boys."

She looked back at Stan, frowning and wondering who would have the gall to do something like that. It was too weird. It was obvious from the look Stan had given her that it wasn't just a blind prank to tarnish his reputation. There was a hint of truth to that list…so who was behind it? Who had it in for Stan? Besides Nicholas, that is…and there was no way he'd have the guts to do something like this…not after she'd threatened to never forgive him if he did something to Stan.

–––––––––––––––

Shelley turned off her car and got out, immediately planning on locking herself in her room. She was too pissed off to do anything right now; too pissed off at herself, at Nicholas, at that _bitch_, Henrietta. She was right in the middle of popping in a CD to her stereo when Stan came trudging into her room.

She glared. "What are you doing in my room, assface?"

Stan frowned, shoving a piece of paper in her hands. "You have to help me… Please…I'm your brother; and I don't know who else who can help besides Henrietta, and she's got her own problems right now…"

She took one look at the list and burst out laughing. "Nice joke, turd. Who's the instigator of this little list, huh?"

He looked up at her. "Me."

She laughed for a moment, suddenly realizing what he said. "Wait, _what_??"

He frowned, moaning woefully. "I…I am. I don't know who found this list and put it up around school, but…but it's mine… I actually wrote it…"

She stared at him for a moment then fell silent. Finally, after what felt like an hour, she spoke. "Wait…so… So you mean… You mean Kyle… Er, you…you're _like that_??" Her jaw dropped. "What the hell is _wrong_ with you!? I was just _joking_!! I didn't think you'd start to believe me!"

Stan shut his eyes, clenching his teeth. "It's not anything you said, Shelley!! I figured it out on my own! I've never been that forward with Wendy, despite the fact that I've been technically going out with her long enough for us to have _done_ anything; I…it's a long story, but I wound up kissing Kyle and realized I enjoyed it a lot more than kissing Wendy, and now someone found this list I made about who I liked more and posted it around school! I'm not _asking_ you, Shelley… I'm _begging_ you!"

Shelley took a step back, then promptly ripped it up. Her expression softened. "As long as you didn't screw up and freak out at school, your secret's between the two of us. But I think you should break up with Henrietta first. It's rude to lead a girl on like that."

Stan frowned. "She already knows; she's staying with me to make it look like I'm straight… But can you help me, Shelley?"

"How could I _possibly_ help you!? What could I do other than keep it a secret from Mom and Dad!?"

"You have to help me find out who found this list!! It was in my room, on my dresser, in a little picture I have of me and Kyle! I don't know who could have gotten their hands on it other than _you_, and it's obvious you're just as surprised about this list as I am!"

Shelley glared. "How could I figure out who did it!? It's not like I go around inviting people over!" She paused, suddenly growing silent. No… There was no need to rush to _that_ conclusion. No need at all. Her voice faltered. "B-Besides, I…I just can't be of much help to you. I'm _sorry_, Stan, but you have to deal with this–"

He wiped at his eyes, fighting tears. "Shelley, can you for once in your life show me a little fucking compassion!? More than anything I just want someone to help support me right now, and Henrietta's got too many problems of her own to help me every waking hour of the day!! I can't tell Kyle because Kyle doesn't know how I feel about him! I only have you!"

She stopped, biting her lip. "I… Oh, Stan… I'm so sorry…" She put a hand on his shoulder and he immediately wrapped his arms around her. She sighed, patting him on the back. "I'll help you fix this, okay?"

He nodded, finally feeling somewhat relieved, but Shelley had other things on her mind. This was all her fault…that is, if her theory was correct. All she needed to do was confront that asshole, right? No, she couldn't do that. If she confronted him, he'd just laugh it off and deny it. And, if he _hadn't_ been the culprit, him finding out about the list being true would just complicate things even more. She had to come up with a plan. But she was _terrible_ at that sort of thing. There was no way around it–she'd have to risk it.

* * *

What is she going to do? Risk what? Find out...in a couple of seconds when I upload the next chapter.


	17. Policy of Truth

Short but sweet. I hope you all enjoy this one. (I know I didn't.)

Song is by Depeche Mode. (Oh God, I wanna nurture them.)

Enjoy.

* * *

**"Policy of Truth"  
**_Chapter Seventeen_

Her parents would be home soon, and she needed to get this out of the way before they did, or else she'd have no excuse to be over there. She gulped, crossing the train tracks and stepping through the piles of trash to the front doorstep of the McCormick household. She remembered when they, her and Kevin, were still friends, rumors traveled that his parents were involved in making crystal meth and other illegal substances.

She wasn't sure about crystal meth, but if there was one thing Kevin's dad was known for, it was brewing his own beer. When he didn't have enough money for booze, he was making moonshine. And not the good kind, either. It was supposedly always below par, from what she'd heard Kenny saying in her car in the mornings.

She sighed and knocked on the door, swallowing the vomit rising from her stomach at the pungent aroma of alcohol wafting from the door. The door opened, and Kevin's dad slurred a welcome. She groaned, pinching the bridge of her nose. He was piss-drunk. He probably didn't even recognize her he was so fucking smashed.

"Hello, Mr. McCormick…"

He took one look at her and turned around. "Kenny! One of your little friends is here!" When no one came, he walked back. "Come on in…"

She walked in hesitantly, catching sight of Kenny walking into the living room. His father grumbled something about him being too slow and took a swing, but before he could even lay a finger on his youngest son, Kevin jumped in and yanked his little brother out of the way. Their father, in turn, toppled over and writhed around on the ground, yelling angry curses until finally he dozed off in a drunken stupor. The two boys started to snicker.

Kevin waved a finger at the blond, sighing. "Kenny, learn from me. One does not simply walk into the living room and expect to come out unscathed."

Kenny snorted. "Whatever, Kev. Go be one of those Lord of the Ring dorks somewhere else." He spun around, noticing who it was. "What the fuck? You're not one of my friends. What the hell are _you_ doing here?"

Kevin turned, his eyes brightening; Shelley only winced at the inevitable conclusions he'd jump to. "Shell! What are you doing here? Did you come to see me??"

She wrung her hands, glancing at Kenny. "Well, I really need to talk to you alone, Kevin…"

Kevin gave his brother a wink and shoved him back to his room. He walked out from the hallway, into the living room again. "What is it…babe?"

She groaned, rolling her eyes in disgust and grabbing his hand. "Can we go somewhere more private? This isn't about me. It's about…my brother…"

Kevin yanked his hand out of her grip. "What? Why the hell–"

She frowned, giving him a _look_. "Please, K– Kev. I need your help."

He gave her a look of his own, crossing his hands over his chest and leaning back on one leg, rooting himself to his spot. "What's in it for me? I lay low and wait for you to realize how much a dick your new boyfriend is, and when you finally come back, it's not even about that! It's about your brother!"

She groaned, placing her hand over his mouth and lowering her voice. "Shush! Will you be quiet!? Kevin! I just need your help! Can I explain it later!? I think…I think you're right…" She kicked the carpet a little, growing shy, and lowering her hands, messing with her hands. "I think you were right…about Nicholas. I think he…" Her bottom lip quivered. "I think he used me… I just… I need your help now so I can figure out if that's the truth or not…"

His eyes rose, and he took a step toward her. "You serious? You mean, you believe me now?? What did the bastard do!?"

"Can I just talk to you about it later!? If you want, you can even think of it as a date, just please! I need to talk to you about it where no one will hear me!!"

Kevin nodded, glaring at the orange and yellow spot in the corner of his eye, over by the hallway to Kenny's room. "Sure. I'll go with you. But you _owe_ me." He gave her a smirk, and she just rolled her eyes and groaned, walking out the door without another word.

––––––––––––––––

She sat there, in the driver's seat, staring at the lake in front of her. She sighed. "I feel terrible about it. I have a feeling he's the one that found that list and posted it around the middle school… But still…he… I doubt he would, though. He hates Stan, but when his friends suggested digging up dirt on Stan, he told them to piss off and get those ideas out of their heads… I just…" She sighed, putting her face in her hands. "I know I'm a bad sister, but… But out of all the things to have happened to him, this is the worst, and if I find out it's _my_ fault, I just…"

Kevin patted her back. "Don't beat yourself up over this. You said Stan played it off like a joke, right? So everything's fine."

"That's not the point, though! I would have–"

He cleared his throat. "Well, you obviously are risking a lot telling someone like _me_ about your brother being gay, so _why_ are you telling me? How am I supposed to help you?"

She sighed, looking over at him. "I know some of your friends are freshmen, and so is he. Is there a way for you to get them to watch him? See if he does anything funny?"

Kevin chuckled, scratching his head, his cheeks turning slightly pink. "Well…actually…I already asked them to keep an eye on him… Heh heh. I didn't trust him, and so I wanted to make sure he wasn't up to anything…"

She socked him in the shoulder. "What the fuck!? You said you weren't stalking me, you asshole!!"

He smiled, rubbing his arm. "Well…I'm not. But you never asked me if I was stalking _him_. In which case, yes. I am. Only when he's in school though. Most of the shit he does is pretty routine. Pretty normal, I mean. He skips school sometimes, does his homework like a good little boy, never raises his hand in class, sits in the back, zones out and starts writing in class, doodles a little and shit. There's really nothing to hint that he's got any ulterior motives… Of course, you said he may have found the list on Friday, so any evidence of him having that we wouldnt've have seen…" He fell silent. "Wait…what was he doing upstairs anyway?"

She glared. "We were watching a movie and he had to use the bathroom."

"Did he ever go inside your room?"

She went red, punching his shoulder again. "That's none of _your_ business, Kevin!! Since it's obvious you can't help me, I'll just kick you out right now!!"

"Did you guys have sex?"

Her face darkened and she slapped him in the face. "Stop it! Just shut the fuck up and stop asking that!! It's none of your fucking business!!"

He frowned, rubbing his cheek. "So you _did_?"

"Kevin!"

"Well I can't help it! You know how I feel!!"

"Yes I do, but–" She groaned. "Whatever. This isn't about me; this is about Stan." She grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and pulled him towards her, staring straight into his eyes. "Tell anyone what I told you and I'll never speak to you again, got it?"

He smirked. "I recall you making those threats before…"

"I _mean_ it this time. This is about Stan, so I'm being fucking serious. If word gets out that he's gay and he hasn't been going around telling everyone, I'll _know_ it's you who told. So don't you fucking _dare_ breathe a word of this to anyone. Got it?"

He nodded, and she let go, grumbling and buckling herself back in. He smiled. "You owe me. How about a kiss?"

She glared, taking off the parking break and shifting into Drive. "You haven't provided me with anything useful, so I don't owe you shit."

He frowned, buckling his seatbelt and fiddling with his thumbs. "Well…" He mumbled. "Maybe if you gave me a kiss I'd forget this whole conversation…"

She glared, turning to him, slamming on the brakes before she got anywhere. "What was that?"

He smiled, turning to her once again. "I said that if you give me a kiss, I won't tell anyone."

She smiled, trying not to laugh. "Nice try, dipshit. But the blackmail works both ways. I refuse to kiss you, and if you let any of this conversation out of this car, I'll just stop talking to you. You lose."

He frowned, snapping his fingers. "Ah, shit! You're right. Damn it. I thought it'd work…" He smirked, glancing over at her. "It was a nice try though, right?"

She shook her head. "It was probably the dumbest thing you've ever done…and I've seen you try to roll down a tree-covered hill on a trashcan…"

"Oh, so you _remember_ that?"

She turned red, driving out to the highway. "Of course not. All I remember is you wound up with a broken arm."

He smirked, leaning back in his chair. "Hmm…Maybe I should try that again. _That_ would get your attention…"

"It'd get a few laughs on my end. Go ahead and do it. I need something to laugh at."

* * *

You thought the plot would be given something to go off of, didn't you? Yeah. This is why I hate this chapter. The entire thing is practically useless. (Ha ha. I wonder how many people are pissed at me now... xD)


	18. My Mathematical Mind

Sorry about the useless chapter. This one brings the plot back again, though. (And I made it so it didn't make the last one completely useless... Haaa.)

This is told from Kyle's view again. And it has Kenny taking a slightly bigger role, too.

I hope you all enjoy it. I loff you all.

Song is by Spoon. Really, it's a great song. I found Spoon while watching one of the best movies of all time–_Stranger Than Fiction_. Dustin Hoffman; Will Ferrell; Queen Latifah; Emma Thompson; Maggie Gyllenhaal. Good times. I highly recommend the movie to you all. Queen Latifah and Will Ferrell need to do movies like this more often. (The song this chapter was named after is also in that movie, by the way.)

O: Hope you all enjoy the steamy shower scene at the beginning, though. Sorry it took a while to upload. I'm currently writing about a girl whose father is a master thief and she finds him murdered, finds out he's a thief (after she puts college on hold), and has to travel around the world to all of his contacts and "business associates" to find out who his killer is. Along with her is her best friend from childhood whose father was an associate of her father (who's Polish) when they were younger. She's got an obsession with cult films and martial arts films, and she can kick ass pretty easily. Her friend's a pansy and pretty much follows her around because he's got no funding to go to college after her father died (his died when they were both much younger) and he's got nothing better to do…

Uh…it's not a fanfiction or anything. Just so you guys know, I don't _just_ write fanfiction, and I prefer devoting more time to original stories than fanfics. So…expect a more "lax" uploading schedule from me ever since this idea popped into my head a month ago.

Oh, and Kyle's bitchier than usual, as are all the characters. I wasn't in a bitchy mode while writing this chapter, they just turned out this way. You should have seen the original script for Stan and Kyle's argument. I made it less powerful by adding in too much crap about Stan leaving him in high school and putting it in Kyle's point of view. I should've stuck with Stan for that last part, but oh well. Also, I tried my best to write up Kyle going into an insulin reaction. I had to base it off my mom, who also has childhood diabetes (though she's not a child anymore, of course.) and the shit I used to ask her when I was little. She said it was like having a dream, and I turned that more into an out-of-body experience, since that seems more plausible, and my mom generally has dreams where she's watching herself walk around and do stuff, so. And that slippery fish part? That was Kyle trying to think of a good simile and failing since he was becoming incoherent. I _totally _could have thought of something better than that. -sneaky side glance-

And ignore the fact that without his medication, he probably should have gone into an insulin reaction before lunch since he skipped breakfast. We'll just chock it up to his Jewish heritage.

Finally, about the last part: Kenny _plus _Orange _equals _Velma In Disguise. (You know, Scooby Doo Velma.)

* * *

"**My Mathematical Mind"  
**_Chapter Eighteen_

Kyle woke up, feeling groggy. His head pounded, and he still felt as if he hadn't gotten any sleep at all, though he knew he wouldn't be able to fall back to asleep again. There was only one thing he was upset about and that was Stan, as seemed to be the usual cause these days. He hopped out of bed, wandering into the hallway to discover it was five in the morning. "Oh great," he groaned, stumbling into the bathroom to take a piss, as usual whenever he woke up.

He leaned his head against the mirror as he dropped his drawers and proceeded to aim, staring at the deep circles underneath his eyes that weren't there before. He sighed, completely overlooking the fact that his skin was much paler than before and that his health had taken a drastic decline ever since that damn kiss two weeks ago. He could only hope his mother didn't take notice–she'd blame the government, then the school board for serving bad cafeteria food, even though he didn't eat their shitty food, and finally she'd blame his own sleeping habits.

Peering at his chin more fervently, he discovered the hair had fallen out, much to his despair. "Oh great, now my _hair's_ falling out? I'm turning into my _dad_…" He sighed, thinking back on the whole flyer ordeal from the day before. If _only_ Stan _did_ like him more than Wendy–Stan needed to forget about that girl. He'd known all along she was cheating on him with one of the other guys in his class–that asshole made it a point to bring it up whenever he could.

But Stan had Henrietta now, and that was great for him. Henrietta was smart, sensible, kind and giving. And she totally didn't cheat on her boyfriends. It was just those two Goth kids that she'd gotten to sit at their table. He hated to admit it, but Cartman was right–those two involving themselves in their group could only lead to trouble.

He sighed, finishing up and flushing the toilet. There was no point in trying to get back to sleep now: he was wide awake–despite the pounding of fatigue harassing his brain–; so, he set himself to taking a shower. He turned on the water, stripped down and hopped into the tub, shivering as the hot water heater started to kick in slowly from the disuse over the night.

He sighed, letting the water seep into his hair until finally it got somewhat soaked before he grabbed the shampoo. As he worked it into his hair, his mind grew foggy and he faded in and out. Lathering up, washing off, rinsing the grime from yesterday out of his hair and using three uses of conditioner for a change–maybe it'd make it better…

He got out of the shower and went immediately for the blow-dryer, drying off his hair. His hair was just as much of a bitch to deal with…as usual. Once done with everything else, he went to his room, dressed, and went into the kitchen for a quick bite to eat.

His father was sitting at the table, for it was around six by this time. Gerald looked up from his newspaper, smiling brightly. "Good morning, Kyle. You're sure up early."

"Oh, hey, dad. I'm going to school early today. For a project." Yeah, his parents would believe that.

Gerald nodded his head, going back to his paper with a "Hmmm…"; Kyle turned to get his bags and leave, skipping the meal to keep himself from staring at the yarmulke that so perfectly covered up his father's bald spot, but Gerald turned the page of his paper and peeked back out at him. "Oh, and Kyle…?"

Kyle turned. "Hmmm…?"

"Try and get to sleep more often, alright? You look like a mess."

––––––––––––––––––

It was seven in the morning when he got to school, and he immediately went to the back, knowing Henrietta would be there. She was _always_ there and always would be. She was sitting where the buses parked in the back–on the curb–and smoking idly. Her bookbag was strewn off to the side, her purse falling askew against her thigh. It was an odd purse–all shaped like a cat with a skull and everything. He couldn't believe he'd never noticed just how freaky it was before.

She looked up at the sky, sighing and exhaling a stream of smoke into the air.

Her face turned and she caught sight of him. She patted the spot next to her, not saying anything. Kyle eagerly sat beside her, though he still had no idea why he liked her–the only thing that had made him warm up to her was the mutual hatred toward Cartman. After a while, he glanced at her cigarette, and he pointed at it. "Mind if I have one of yours? I'm all out."

"Sure," she mumbled distantly, and proceeded to reach into her bag to get out the pack of Parliaments she kept with her at all times. Her hand was just grabbing onto it when she did a double take and looked back at him. "What?? You _smoke_, Broflovski?"

Kyle shrugged, as if it wasn't anything surprising. "Usually only one every once in a while. I can't do it often because my mother's like a hawk and is always checking for things like that…"

She nodded her head and pulled out the pack, handing him one. She reached into her pocket and pulled out a lighter, flicking it open and sparking the flame. Leaning over to where he was waiting with the cigarette resting between his lips, she couldn't help but notice how familiar it seemed. She used to do this all the time with Nicholas, especially since Thorne and Peter didn't smoke Parliaments. The tip of his cigarette ignited, and she pulled the lighter away, closing it back up and putting it away.

Kyle sighed and inhaled, exhaling a smoke ring into the sky. She smiled, not able to keep her eyes off of him. She pursed her lips together, sighing and going back to her own cigarette. She took a drag, blowing out the smoke and looking down at her fingernails.

"Curly hair runs in your family, doesn't it?"

"Nah, my mom's hair is more wavy than anything. It's just really frizzy so she wears it up in that damn beehive all the time. My dad's balding, so I don't know if his hair was particularly curly at one point or not. And Ike's adopted, so it's not like his looks say anything about my family genetics… I tried using my mom's straightener once, but it caused my hair to turn brittle and dry."

Henrietta laughed. "Yeah, Nicholas did the same thing when we were still in grade school. You left the straightener in your hair too long. It ended up singeing your hair… I'll bet your hair was really awkward and straight in that damaged way for a few days, right?"

Kyle smiled. "Yeah. I was trying to make it more like Stan's, actually. But he's got better genes than I do."

"I think your genes are pretty great… Sure, your hair's a bit of a mess and you've got yourself a Jew-nose, but you're smarter than Stan, that's for sure. Have you _seen_ his grades in Math? He's slipping, badly… You know…you should try tutoring him."

"Why don't _you_? I heard from your friend's you're doing pretty good in math."

Her eyebrows rose, and she chuckled. "Oh no, no, no, math's not my strong suit. Besides, I'm always skipping it." She looked over at him, studied his face. "…Hey, are you feeling okay? You look _really_ worn out…"

He took another drag, his cheeks turning slightly pink. "W-Well, I haven't been getting much sleep lately." He turned, looked at her. "Are you not wearing make-up?" His eyebrows furrowed. "You look dead tired. Why are you here at school?"

"Oh, I just got sick of looking at my room right now. Do I really look that bad, though? Usually I put my make-up on right before school starts, but if it's that bad, I'd hate to go looking like this sitting by you and all…" She turned to her purse, smirking slightly, pulling out a few cosmetics. "Don't tell Stan I look like shit without my make-up, okay?"

"Thanks."

She turned, her eye twitching. "_Excuse_ me? I know I look bad, but that doesn't warrant you acting like a jack-off."

Kyle laughed, taking another drag and exhaling another smoke ring. "No, it's not about your make-up. I mean, thanks for being with Stan."

She stopped, looking at him for a moment, surprised. Then she chuckled, as if unsure she heard correctly. "What do you mean?"

"Well, this guy in my class was always bragging about how he was dating Wendy behind Stan's back, so I always knew she was cheating on Stan. I always wanted to tell him about it, but I was always afraid he'd get depressed again and just never brought it up. But he's got you now, so that's great for him. So…thanks for being there for him."

She stared at him for a while, putting her cigarette out on the concrete in front of her, watched how he smiled and took another drag, before she leaned over, tossing the cigarette from his mouth and reaching her fishnetted hands to his face. "I'm going to kiss you, Broflovski."

He turned red, leaning away from her. "Wh-What!? Did you not just hear a word I said!?" As he spoke, smoke seeped from his lips, into her face, but that hardly stopped her. She leaned in, capturing his lips in a kiss, staying there like that for a moment before pulling back.

He relaxed a bit when he was sure she wouldn't try anything again, and went silent, staring at the snow beyond his shoes. She simply smiled at him, chuckling. "Well, you certainly didn't seem to enjoy that."

"Of course not… Y-You're Stan's girlfriend. Didn't I _just_ say I was glad you were there for him? Why the hell would you go ruin my impression of you by k-_kissing_ me like that?"

She laughed, putting a hand over her mouth. "Hahahaha! Ha ha ha. Well, honestly, it's because you reminded me of someone I used to like a while back…" Her voice went silent, and for a moment she just sat there, staring at the sky. With a quick glance at him, her face fell, her mood soured.

"Tell me, Kyle, who do you think was behind that stunt yesterday?"

"What stunt? You mean the list that Stan supposedly wrote? It'd have to be someone who knew him really well. Did you see how Wendy was cheerful after that? It seems like the only one capable of organizing something like this would be Cartman… After all, he's been head-over-heels for Wendy ever since grade school." His eyes widened. "Wait, that's it! Cartman and his mother weren't home yesterday because she'd already taken him to school! That would've given him enough time to spread them around!"

He stood up. "That fatass! I'll fucking kill him! No one messes with Stan and gets away with it, damn it!"

Henrietta's smile returned, and she stood up, brushing off her rear end. "Broflovski, how's about we team up in this little endeavor…? It's obviously a subject we both care about deeply…"

Kyle glanced at her, felt the bottom drop out of his plans. What? No! He couldn't team up with _her_! Stan'd get the wrong idea; he'd accuse him of stealing his girlfriend! Besides, when it came right down to it, he just didn't trust her!

"Need I remind you Stan will believe anything I tell him over what you say… For instance…that _kiss_ I administered… I could easily turn it into you attacking me."

Kyle's eyebrows rose and his jaw dropped. "Wh-What!? There's no way he'd believe _you_ over _me_! He's known me for years!"

"He's known me for years as well."

"Try four! He's known me since we were in diapers! Don't even _try_ it, Henrietta! Cartman was right about you, you whore! I'll bet he's been right about you and other those Goth kids, too! It certainly _sounds_ like something you'd four do, messing with Stan's head to spite him! I knew that little leader of yours would be trouble the minute he told Stan he'd make him pay!"

Her eyes narrowed, and he swore it looked like she wanted to kill him. "When did _that _happen?"

"Shortly before he graduated and went into high school! He told Stan that just because he wasn't in middle school anymore, it didn't mean that he had lost all of his methods at spiting him! I can't believe Stan was stupid enough to befriend _you_ shortly afterwards! I mean, this whole 'change' of yours–it's not fooling anyone! You're just as much of a cunt as you were back then!"

The second he said those words she became volatile. "Excuse me!? You're right, I am the same as I was back then, and I may be a _cunt_, as you say, but I will tell you this: I never once hated Stan! In fact, I always admired him, so don't think that just because that asshole hates him it means the rest of us do! I'm _trying_ to change, yes, but that change is going to be slow at best, so you just shut the fuck up Broflovski! You don't know me like Stan does, so I'm sure he's a far better judge of my character than you!" She grabbed her bags, slinging them over her shoulder and storming off, back to the front of the school.

Kyle kicked the wall, letting out his rage and hate and feelings of being so stupid. "God damn it! Hell yes I want to get that bastard Cartman back, so don't go telling Stan I attacked you or anything!" He followed her, grabbing her arm and lowering his head.

"Look, I'm really, _really_ sorry… I shouldn't have…assumed you were trying to spite Stan like Nicholas…"

She snorted, turning around to him. "Of course you shouldn't have. You never assume. It makes an ass out of you and me." Soon, however, her smile returned and she poked him in the chest. "Well, Broflovski, now that you've seen how much of an ass you're being, I'm sure it's safe to say all is forgiven. Just please…_don't_ call a woman anything you wouldn't call your mother."

"And don't call me Broflovski. Only Shelley does that, and it makes me think ill of you. You act way too much like her, you know."

Her face changed into something he couldn't quite place, but she nodded her head, giving him a small smile. "Alright, Kyle. I'll stop calling you that. But promise me one thing–do me a favor and help Stan out in Math, will you?"

"Of course. I'll ask him at lunch."

––––––––––––––––––––––

Kyle was sitting at lunch, starving because he had left the house without any food, breakfast or otherwise. If he skipped lunch, he'd be fainting on the way home, and that wouldn't be too good. But he had no money, and there was no way he'd beg his friends for a dollar. After all, Cartman would give him a hard time about it, saying he was a Jew and didn't _need_ any more money.

Stan sat down, poking at his lunch idly with a fork. He turned his eyes to his friend, whom he'd decided to sit across from today. "Where were you this morning?"

Kyle sighed shrugging his shoulders. "I figured I'd get to school early to just think. I ran into Henrietta and we talked."

Stan simply nodded before bending down, pulling out a bagged lunch. "I stopped by your house to see where you were, and your mom complained you'd left without getting lunch or breakfast. Here." He tossed it across the table, and Kyle took it eagerly, though he didn't feel hungry at all. "You know if you don't eat anything your blood sugar levels go crazy."

Kyle smiled, pulling out a thermos with some lentil soup in it. It looked like shit, but he knew his mother's cooking _always_ looked the same. He looked back at Stan, just as Kenny and Cartman lumbered over. "Say, Henrietta was telling me you weren't doing well in Math. If you want, you can come over to my house and I can help you with it… My mom's been wanting me to invite you over, so I figure I might as well make it worth your while…"

Stan poked at his food, his cheeks turning pink. "Nah, I can't."

"You can't? Why." He didn't dip up at the end, making it into a statement instead. Stan had been acting strange, and something told him the whole ordeal the previous day would change how he acted towards him.

"I've got…plans. A doctor's appointment. It's about this black eye I've got. M-My vision's blurry in it and my dad thought…."

Kyle nodded, feeling the tension between them grow for some reason. "Well, if that's the case, then I'll just ask you some other time…"

"Right…"

Kenny leaned over to Kyle, taking a seat next to him, across from Cartman, who was now next to Stan. "Hey, I need some help in Math, Kyle. I can come over and you can help me out if you want… You know I'd eat your mother's cooking over the lack of food I get at home…" He smiled pleasantly, knowing he sounded like he was in it only for the food and didn't care–that _was_ the main reason, after all.

Kyle smiled, shaking his head. "No, I just promised Henrietta this morning that I'd help out Stan in Math. Maybe on Saturday we can have a study session or something. You know, just us three."

Cartman gave him a sour look, slightly affronted that the Jew had left him out of their plans, but didn't say a word.

Stan shook his head. "No, I can't. I…I've got plans on Saturday, too. My dad's cleaning out the attic and I have to help him. He says if we do that, we won't accidentally collide like that whenever he feels like getting something down."

The fat one smiled a little, not buying that story one bit. It was a lousy lie, as were all of Stan's lies. And even when his stories _were_ believable, he always ended up doing something that proved he'd been lying the whole time.

Henrieta walked up, pausing over at the spot Kyle was at. She smiled sweetly, glancing at Stan, knowing it'd look weird if she didn't sit near him. "Hey, Kyle, could you scoot over one seat or something? I'd like to sit by Stan…"

Kyle nodded, nudging Kenny. Just as Kenny got up and Kyle was about to take that spot, the two Goth kids walked up. "No way in hell," said Thorne, the older of the two. "We're not sitting next to the rest of _you_. We're sitting next to _Henrietta_."

Kenny groaned a little, but allowed it, instead opting to sitting over next to Cartman. Henrietta took Kyle's seat, and the two Goth kids swarmed the side of the table beside her, leaving Kyle three spots down from Stan on both sides. Kyle put on a face, looking to Cartman. "Move it, fatboy."

Cartman laughed. "No way, Kahl. I'm sittin' here and nothing you say will make me move."

He looked to Kenny. "K-Kenny?"

Kenny shook his head. "It's okay, Kyle. Since we're hanging out on Saturday, why don't you sit next to me today! It'll be fun hanging out with you instead of _Cartman_ for a change!"

Cartman gave him a look, but kept his mouth shut. Kyle took the spot next to Kenny, finding himself feeling miles away from his friend. He sighed, starting on his lunch slowly. Henrietta's voice perked his ears up from his dilemma.

"Hey, babe. Can we hang out today after school? I found this really cool spot in the mall where no one goes by. We could eat out and sit there. Nice and secluded…"

Stan smiled. "Sure, sounds great."

His spoon fell from his hand and Kyle stood up, clearing his throat. He was flustered for some reason he couldn't put his finger on. Stan had been acting strange, and now it seemed like he was avoiding him. "Wh-What about your doctor's appointment, Stan? D-Didn't you say you had to go to that after school?"

Stan looked at him, his eyes filled with that look he got when he was caught lying. "Y-Yeah. Thanks, dude. I forgot about that."

"You _just_ told me about it a minute or two ago. How could you have _forgotten_ about it?"

Cartman burst into hysterics. "Oh gahs, this is so great to see you two fighting! Isn't it obvious, Kahl? Everyone thinks he's gay for you now, so he doesn't want to hang out with _you_ anymore! Looks like you'll have to find yourself a new best friend!"

Kyle turned pink, and Stan turned bright red, sputtering to save his skin. "Th-That's not true at all, fatass! It's not because of that at all! I just forgot about it because I wanted to go out on a date with my girlfriend!"

"Is she _really_ your girlfriend, Stan? I mean, I don't about any of _you_ gahs, but I've never seen them kiss. What about you, Kinny? Have you seen them making out anywhere?"

Kenny glanced at Kyle, then back at Stan, finally back at Henrietta, who was glaring at Cartman. He couldn't get that conversation Shelley and her brother had been shouting about the other day. He didn't know what it was about, but she'd said it was about Stan, and the only thing that would've happened that day was that list Stan had been accused of writing. Kevin'd been going on about how that one Goth kid was dating her, and judging by what that asshole had said to Stan before he graduated, it wouldn't be a stretch to say he was just using Stan's sister against him.

"Kinny! Listen to me, dammit! Did you see them making out or not!?"

Kenny's head rattled as he nodded his head quickly. "A-All the time! I…uh…I'm always watching them!"

The two Goth kids gave him disgusted looks, and Cartman just let it slide as if he would've expected that much out of him. Kenny turned pink and glanced at Henrietta, who was breathing a sigh of relief. Everything seemed to add up…Stan was in love with Kyle… Why _else_ would he blow his best friend off? It all made sense to him…but still. These guys had been his friends for forever, and Stan had always been obsessed with Wendy. What changed between them, exactly?

Kyle sighed, standing away from his table and walking out of the lunch room. He grabbed Stan by the collar of his shirt as he did so, and everyone in the lunchroom watched him as he dragged the poor guy out of there, all the while wearing a look that clearly said he wanted to murder someone.

–––––––––––––––––––

Kyle slammed him against the wall outside, feeling utterly betrayed. "What the hell, Stan!?"

Stan just glared back at him. "What, Kyle!? What's your problem!?"

"That was a blatant lie back there! Why the hell do you not want to hang out with me anymore!? I thought you said that list was nothing, dude! You said it didn't bother you! So why the hell are you avoiding me!? You want to hang out with Henrietta, but not your own best friend!?"

"She's my girlfriend! Of course I do!"

"You never avoided me when you were with Wendy! It's Henrietta's fault, isn't it!? I swear, dude, she's bad news! I was talking with her earlier this morning, and she's just… She's bad news, dude! She _kissed_ me, dude! She's worse than Wendy!"

Stan pushed back at the redhead. "Oh yeah!? Well I actually talked to Henrietta, and she said that some dude in your class was always bragging about how he was with Wendy while she was with me! You're my best friend; you should've told me about that! But did you, no!! And now you think have the right to kiss Henrietta!?"

"I didn't kiss her! _She_ kissed _me_! I protested and everything but she didn't listen! You shouldn't hang out with her, dude! She seems like the type of person that'd drag you back down! She smokes and everyone knows that women who smoke are trashy!"

"Oh, did that fat bitch of a mother tell you that, Kyle!? You know what Henrietta also told me!? She said you asked her for a cigarette and everything! So what about _this_, Kyle!? You never told me you smoked! So what, are you hiding other things from me!? First I find out you smoke, then I find out you haven't been telling me when Wendy was cheating on me, and now you're trying to pin _everything_ on Henrietta!! I believe her over you at this point, dude!"

"Don't you bring my mother into this, dude! And I can't _believe_ you'd believe Henrietta over me! She dragged you down in the fourth grade, dude! What makes you think she won't just start getting you into drugs or something!? Remember what Mr. Mackey said, Stan?? Drugs are bad, mmkay!"

Stan snickered, doing an impersonation of Mr. Mackey. "Mmkay…"

Kyle, however, was livid, and simply pushed Stan back into the wall, holding his hands there with his arm. "Shut the hell up, Stan! I'm being fucking serious! Henrietta's bad news! Her friends are even sitting at our table now!"

"You knew Henrietta wanted her friends to stop being so dark, Kyle! What, do you think they're planning to _off_ me or something now!? If this is how you're going to act around me now, why should I even hang out with you!?"

"Yeah, well people change in high school Stan, and we're one semester away from all of that shit! What's not to say you're going to suddenly start hang out with the Goth kids again and leave me behind!? That's what it looks like right now!!"

Stan fell silent, suddenly realizing how close they were. Him? Leave _Kyle_ behind? He'd never do that…it was just Kyle was acting so weird lately. He looked at Kyle in the face, noticed every crease and deep shadows under his eyes. He ran his tongue over his lips, feeling his lips become dry, and completely forgetting how suggestive that probably looked. "Kyle…are you…are you _okay_?"

"What!?"

"Kyle, you don't look good. Seriously, are you feeling okay?"

"Don't." Kyle spit it out, his cheeks growing warm. Stan just stared at him, wondering what on earth he meant by that.

"Don't what?"

"You _know_ what you're doing, Stan, and it's not funny anymore!" He let go, stepping back. "Just stop it, Stan!"

"St-Stop _what_? I'm not doing anything!"

"Yes you do! Just stop with…" He held out his arms at him, motioning towards him. "Just _that_, dude! Stop it! You know what you're doing!" He felt a tear well up in one of his eyes and he groaned, walking away, his cheeks flaring up. Stan was messing with him _again_. He was _always_ doing shit like that. Like what he did to get him to stop making fun of Wendy, like that _kiss_, and _now_ he had the gall to suddenly become concerned about him when it was obvious he wanted nothing to do with him. And…And the way he'd licked his lips! Gahhh! He was pissing him off!

Stan stood up from the wall. "K-Kyle! What's wrong!?"

Kyle whirled around. "What do you _think_, dude!? You're hanging out with Henrietta more than me now! So what, am I just not going to talk to you anymore when we go into high school!?"

"Oh, and what about that inside joke with Kenny!? It's just the same as that, Kyle! Jesus, we're still…we're still friends, right??"

Kyle sighed, wiping at his offending eye. "I don't know anymore, Stan. You're just…way too different right now…" He stalked off, leaving Stan over by the wall. He walked around the corner of the building, away from the back of the school, and discovered Clyde and Craig by the wall, watching them. He glared, spitting at their feet. "What the fuck are you two looking at!? It's nice to see _some_ people can stay friends their whole lives!"

Clyde blinked, turning red. "Dude, we weren't…listening. We were actually going out back to have a smoke. Don't…uh…don't tell anyone, okay?"

Kyle glared, looking at the pack of cigarettes in Craig's hand. "Fine, but only if I can have one of those."

Craig handed him one and Kyle took it, shoving it in his pocket. "Good. You might want to wait until Stan leaves, though. He'd probably rat on you two." He sounded bitter, and Clyde and Craig both exchanged looks warily.

As he walked away, Clyde turned to him. "Are you and Stan…uh…_together_?"

Kyle glared, flipping them off. His head was spinning, and he was becoming increasingly irritable. "Fuck no! I'm not a fag! _He_ might be, but I sure as hell am not! Why don't you two go back there and ask him for tips or something! I'm sure he'd be more than willing to give a couple of jackasses like you advice!"

He walked back to the front of the school, finding himself feeling weaker and weaker. Before he could reach the door to the cafeteria, Kenny dashed out the door, knocking into him. He sputtered, his hand bumping into Kyle's forehead on the way down. "Du-Dude! Kyle, you're clammy! Are you okay!?"

Kyle muttered, feeling his coherency slipping out of his hands like a…like a slippery fish. "No… Just…take me to the nurse's office. I'm pretty sure I'm having an insulin reaction." And like that, everything shut off and it was like he was watching his body move on its own.

––––––––––––––––––

Kyle sighed, lying in his bed and trying to drone out his mother screaming at his father for letting him leave the house without eating or taking his medication. Of course, she wasn't yet on Stan's parents for giving Stan his lunch, hoping he'd deliver it, but that was sure to come later on during the night. He groaned, looking up at the ceiling. After a moment, Kenny snuck in, along with Ike. Kenny saluted, holding out a bowl of soup to his friend.

Kenny had walked home with him, and he'd been eating all their food ever since. Ike was walking beside him, glaring all the while at the blond, and at the half-eaten piece of bread sitting off to the side of the plate the bowl was on. Ike smiled, kicking Kenny in the shins and taking the bowl, properly giving it to him. "I found Kenny eating your bread, but I ripped it from him before he could swallow the whole thing…"

Kyle just looked at the bread, giving it back to his friend. "Ike, I always give Kenny my bread at lunch. I prefer white over wheat…" Ike widened his eyes and Kyle rolled his. "Don't give me that look, Ike. Now get out of here…"

The second Ike left, Kenny sat down in his desk chair, leaning back and stretching. Kyle got onto eating, and Kenny stared down his nose at his friend. After a while, he looked back at the closet nonchalantly. "Shelley came over the other day to talk to my brother about something. She was really upset, and she wouldn't shut up about Stan…"

Kyle glared at his soup, turning his eyes to the window. "So what…"

"Well, she was worried because he was really upset that day. The only thing that happened yesterday, though, was that list…"

"Your _point_?"

"I dunno…if his sister was making that big of a deal about it, it must've been hurting Stan a lot more than he's been telling everyone…" He finally sat up straight, staring at Kyle. "Kyle, what do you think about that list?"

Kyle shrugged, taking a spoonful of soup and downing it. "It's fake. Stan said it was fake, so I can only assume it was…" He looked at Kenny, smiling sheepishly. "Come on, Kenny, you don't actually believe Stan actually _wrote_ that list, did you?"

Kenny shrugged, changing the subject, but keeping it still relevant to the conversation, though Kyle didn't know it. "My brother's really upset about Shelley. He's been trying to get her to like him for a really long time now, and now it turns out she's dating the Goth kid in high school…"

Kyle just shrugged, looking out the window again. "Well, it doesn't matter to me what Stan's sister–" He froze, his eyes widening; his eyes shot back to Kenny, who was looking smug. "Wait, the same one who told Stan he'd make him pay? _That_ one?? He's dating _her_!?"

Kenny just nodded. "Yep. Apparently he was over at her house–Stan's house–on Friday. My brother was up all night kicking the walls and bitching about it…"

Kyle narrowed his eyes, thinking to himself. "If he was over at Stan's house…" His face paled. Maybe he'd seen that picture… Maybe he'd gotten the wrong idea and orchestrated this little plot hoping Stan would confess something…Of course, he wouldn't have known that Stan had already broken up with Wendy and started dating Henrietta…in which case the whole scheme would have been totally useless… But there was the off chance that he _did_ know and _still_ orchestrated it. If that were the case, he'd probably have to have known there was some sort of truth to– Wait, what the fuck was he thinking!?

"Kyle…"

His eyes whirled back to Kenny, and Kenny smiled sheepishly, waving his hand in his face. "You feeling okay?"

"Yeah. Just thinking."

"Oh…well…I gotta go now…so…"

"Oh, okay dude. See you at school tomorrow… And you know, I guess you _could_ come over and Saturday and I could help you out in math. And by helping I mean doing your work for you like always…" They both exchanged a laugh and Kenny nodded.

Before he left, however, he turned to Kyle when he reached the middle of the room. "Oh, by the way… The list that was given out had 'good kisser' at the very end…" Kyle's face went red, and Kenny continued. "…Have you two ever kissed?"

Kyle's face only darkened further, and he scrunched his face up in that way of his that said he'd gotten caught and was trying to keep his composure to not seem like it bothered him so much. "N-No. We've never kissed. I'm not gay, dude."

"So you have."

He lost his composure. "Dude, if my mom hears you she'll kill me! So what if I did!? It was just once and it wasn't that big of a deal, okay!? So just be quiet about it! And if you tell Cartman I'll kill you until you stay dead, got it!?"

Kenny smiled, walking away. He'd heard all he needed. There was some truth in this mystery yet. He felt like fucking Velma, and it was fucking _awesome_.


	19. Well Thought Out Twinkles

_Sorry I took so long. I got wrapped up in Naruto, tried to pick up this story around my birthday, which is _never _a good idea for me, and wound up burning out. So I decided to call it quits for _Dirtbag_. That is, __until I began to get reviews about this story mid-winter and started feeling like I was up to the task of finishing it for you guys. So, I tightened my belt and read through the entire fic to figure out where to start on chapter nineteen._

_I tried about three different approaches before I received an email. The email was pretty much a review, but also a question about any other Goth kids fanfics I have stowed away on my computer. (Try ten one-shots and chaptered fics altogether, and about a dozen in my head.) We got to talking, and then it shifted into writing, and finally into _Dirtbag_. And without the emailer, who is to remain anonymous, I doubt I'd ever have finished this chapter. Anonymous emailer even helped proofread and gave me some really helpful feedback!  
_

_So, thank you anonymous emailer! :D_

_Moving on to the obligatory shout-out for the artist behind the chapter title, I finally settled for "Well Thought Out Twinkles," by Silversun Pickups, which is incredible. Everything on that album is great. (Carnavas, in case anyone's interested. Try "Rusted Wheel" for something that gets into you, and "Common Reactor" for something equally powerful. Check them out on youtube. I wouldn't recommend Common Reactor, though, since all of the versions on youtube are live, and the drums wind up drowning out the melody. For that one you have to __really __work for it. Feel the burn. The steady, pulsating burn of good music. And that's the end of my sales pitch, this time around.) Eh, the song isn_'_t my favorite anymore, but the title is good for the chapter_…_since everything that happens in this chapter is anything _but_ well thought out._

_Anyway…because this is chapter nineteen, I am faced with the task of writing something special next chapter to commemorate getting to twenty. I hope you guys enjoy this incentive for me to write more: Next chapter is going to be titled "Kids," by MGMT._

_I hope you enjoy this chapter; I apologize if it's boring. (I made sure it was pretty long to make up for that seemingly unending hiatus.)_

_Oh, and who's your inner frat boy? Mine is a jackass named Tim who likes watching ladies dance in front of his face too much. And I don't mean the women, I mean the _ladies_._

_Let your inner frat boy out. And stay classy, you guys._

* * *

"**Well Thought Out Twinkles"**_  
Chapter Nineteen_

"Hey, Kev," the blond immortal mumbled lazily, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

His considerably darker-haired brother (made even darker by his lack of bathing and washing the grease from his hair for a few days at the least) turned over in his bed and rubbed at his own eyes, grimacing and baring his teeth. "What the heck do you want, Ken? Can't you see I'm trying to sleep?"

"Well, I just–"

"What the crap!?" Kevin cried, upon looking out the window and spying nothing but darkness – no sun, no sky, just _black_. "What time is it!?"

Kenny shrugged, scrunching his face up. "How should I know? The only working clocks in this house are at school."

For a moment Kevin lay there, assessing his brother's comment – he was _exhausted_ and a bit put-off that his brother had woke him from such a wonderful dream about the girl next door, therefore thinking slower than ever before. "Wait, how are clocks in the house at school?" he finally asked after a while.

"…Exactly," Kenny replied. "As in, I don't know what time it is, and no one knows what time it is in this fucking house."

"Go check the alarm clock in Dad's room," Kevin whined, rolling back over in bed and shoving his face into the yellow-stained, grungy pillow resting atop his failure of a box-spring mattress. Oh yeah, his brother was tired: First, he suggested going into the lair of the beast; second, he didn't care that his brother was easy to kill; three, and this was the biggest tell, he didn't care that Kenny had said the F-word. Kevin was tired as fuck, don't even bother pardoning his French.

"He'll fucking kill me if I wake him up."

"So? You'll get out of school that way." His brother was in no mood, opting to disregard his brother in search of returning to that wonderful dream…

"Say, Kev?"

Kevin kept absolutely silent, breathing in and out evenly, his eyebrows relaxing as he drifted off to sleep. A smile soon formed on his lips after his brother left, and he snuggled into his–

"Kevin."

– fucking mattress!

"Kenny, get the hell out of my room," Kevin practically hissed, eyebrows furrowing together in a desperate attempt to keep the now-vanishing bliss of pre-wake alive for as long as possible. With that annoyance talking, he was finding it harder and harder to resist getting out of bed and grabbing it in a headlock.

"Why the fuck should I?"

"I'm. Tired."

Kenny smirked. "Shelley's at the door."

His older brother shot up, jaw dropping. "Oh, _awe_some! I'm a freakin' psychic!"

"Yeah, she wanted me to tell you that she finds your lack of hygiene and unbelievably bad luck at finding jobs sexy."

Kevin gave his brother a glare, sitting down. "Oh, you freakin' liar. Shelley would _never_ say that."

"Yeah, she would. She's a bitch, remember?"

The elder brother rolled his eyes. "Not _that_ part. I meant her calling me sexy."

Giving his brother a strange look, Kenny took a step back and crossed his arms over his chest. His brother had some major issues. Unless that nerd was a masochist, he just couldn't see him liking anyone who cut him down every chance he got. What the hell was Kevin trying for? The 'Most Rejections in a Single Lifetime' award?

"Well, I need to ask you something, Kev."

Kevin sighed, relinquishing the dream world to reality. It wasn't like he'd be able to get back to sleep, anyway. He curled back up and shivered into the covers, squinting at his brother in aggravation. "Right. What do you need, Ken?"

"Let's say…you found out Sean was gay…"

His brother's expression was blank for a while before he simply narrowed his eyes in puzzlement. "Wait. _What_?"

"Well, say Sean started acting strange. And one of your other friends started acting strange around them, and you were pretty certain is was because there was something going on between them. Something…gay. What would you do?"

Kevin rubbed the back of his head, widening his eyes and laughing a little, floored. "Well…I don't think I've ever given it a thought, what with Sean going so far as to put rocks together to look like boobs and everything… Are you sure Sean would be a good example?"

"Er…should I pick someone else, then?"

"No, it's not Sean so much as what the heck made you wonder how I'd react in the first place. Don't tell me Cartman's _gay_."

Kenny burst out laughing. "Oh, hell. You know I wouldn't be worried about how to deal if I found out Cartman was _gay_. Plus, he's _hardly_ my best friend!"

Kevin's expression was unreadable. "So this is about either Stan or Kyle?"

Rubbing the back of his head, Kenny's face warmed a bit. "N-No. Well…actually…maybe. I just have a feeling they are. I don't really…know for sure or anything… It's not like I should care or anything, even if they were…but…" He trailed off, and Kevin gave his brother a nod of the head.

"But you do."

The blond merely nodded back.

"Well…" Kevin started, rubbing his hands together. "I say as long as Sean and my friend didn't hit on me, I wouldn't care what they do in their private lives, as gross as it might be…."

"Right. Thanks, Kev." His stomach rumbled, that carnal function he'd thought died out years ago in their poverty returning, fierce. "Now, what do we have for breakfast?"

"Frozen waffles and cherry poptarts, like always. You can have my share if you want. Just leave me the hell alone." After a moment of silence, Kevin sat up before his little brother had the chance to leave. "Wait, Kenny. Make sure you eat them cold. That way Dad doesn't smell it cooking and wake up."

"Right. Thanks, bro."

Ah, as dirt poor as they were, entertainment was never in short supply. Too bad he didn't want to hear his Dad wake the neighbors this morning.

–––––––––––––––––––

Kenny sighed, stepping as quietly as he could out the front door. He'd get a ride with Stan, but he didn't think he'd be able to look at Stan and Kyle for a while. Something told him he'd just spill the beans and open up the biggest can of worms in the back of Shelley's car.

Not that there was anything wrong with that, but Kev had lectured him for bugging her after the terrible incident of getting tossed out of the car. And Kev deserved to have at least _someone_ in their house listen to what he said.

Not to mention he now knew he was walking around close to five in the morning, courtesy of climbing the back fence and peering through the Marsh's window. As usual when he wanted to know what time it was. Mental note, replaying: Always look through Stan's parents' window at ten p.m. on Wednesdays to see his mother butt-fuck-naked. If he was lucky, he was able to witness her doing a striptease for Stan's dad, but that was only when Stan was staying over at Kyle's house and Shelley was asleep…_hopefully_.

"Kenny," a timid voice behind him said.

With his foot centimeters from stepping into the dirt they called a yard, he turned around to see his little sister at the door.

"Ah, shit. Kelly, did I wake you up?" She just stared at him, and he rubbed the back of his head. "Right. You don't sleep. Forgot about that. So, what's up? You want me to walk you to school?"

She shook her head, shivering from the cold. Damn, why was she wearing her pajamas in this weather?

"Then what are you doing out of bed?"

"Well, I…I just wanted to know if it was true…"

"What was true?"

"I just…thought it was strange that you felt Stan and Kyle being gay was gross…seeing as you're a zombie."

His jaw dropped, and his eyes softened. "Wait, don't get me wrong, Kelly. It's not that I think it's gross or anything. It's just…" He gave it some thought before giving her a nonchalant look and waved his hand at her. "Who the fuck am I kidding? Yeah, I think it's sick." She pouted, and he rolled his eyes. "But they're my closest friends, so I'm going to support them no matter how gross they might be." He shrugged his shoulders. "After all, I've given guys hand jobs for money, so I'm just as bad."

She pursed her lips together, and he winked at her. "Put that in your pocket and don't tell a soul, Kelly. You won't come back if I kill you."

She just smiled. "Why do I need to tell it when it's been broadcasted on a galactic level?"

"Uh…right. Sometimes you scare me with how smart you are, Kelly. And I don't want to know how you found out about the aliens and Earth and all that."

"This is South Park," she replied helpfully.

"Right…well…bye."

"Have a good day at school." She stepped back away from the door. "And don't get killed," she added in time with an older, more boyish voice behind her, before closing the door gingerly.

––––––––––––––––––

Being the cool kid that he was, he loitered around at the front of the middle school for almost an obscene amount of time. The teachers started walking in, giving him strange looks before realizing he was the McCormick boy, and it was terrible that no social worker would touch that case with a fifty foot pole.

Whatever. He pulled numerous Craigs on them after every pitied look.

He didn't know how long he was sitting there, eyes glazed over with boredom as he sat in the snow, when someone nudged his shoulder.

"Death by hypothermia? No…your skin is too warm for that. Kenny, it's best not to die in front of the school. As good of a lawsuit your parents would be able to file, the school would get on to me for hanging out back before school starts, and I'd prefer not having my usual schedule messed up."

Kenny's eyes shifted to the– Hello there, cleavage-showing corset! He ogled at her well-endowed ladies as long as he possibly could before she cracked him over the head with her skullcat purse.

"Usually I take pity on the ones who won't get any without money, but right now I'm in no mood. Keep your eyes in your head and off my jugs, please."

"Sorry, Henrietta. It's just that your titties are fucking hypnotic."

He stood up, wiping the snow from his butt, only to see her rolling her eyes, lost in thought. After a moment of silence, she shrugged. "Eh, I can live with hypnotic titties. As long as they hypnotize the right people, I'll manage." After a moment, she took out a cigarette and a lighter, lighting up. She took a drag and opened her mouth to speak. As she spoke, smoke curled out of her mouth in ghostly wisps.

"I applied for a modeling agency in Denver the other day. I figure they need more gals like me to stretch out their clothes." Kenny's jaw dropped, but she winked at him. "A year ago I couldn't even look at my body without wanting to purge."

Kenny's face fell. "Ah, er, I'm sorry to hear that. You know, Stan never said anything about you…er…being bulimic and all."

She laughed, her voice bubbling over. "Oh, please. I never had the guts to actually do it. I'm a wrist-cutting coward, remember? Trust me, I was a _lot_ fatter as a kid when I didn't care whether or not I'd live or die and wound up eating all _sorts_ of things you couldn't _pay_ me to eat now." She looked to the sky, going over a list in her head and counting on her fingers. "Snickers, second and third helpings of beef stroganoff, dark chocolate bars, white chocolate bars, potato chips, Cheesy puffs… Oh, damn. Seems I've already run out of fingers on that hand. Just know I ate a _lot_. _Too_ much. But this past year has been therapeutic for me…" Her hand trembled slightly as she took another drag from her cigarette.

Kenny quirked a brow at her. He _hated_ listening to girls talk about their bodies–at least, this sort of body talk. Now if she'd been mentioning bra size… …Aaanyway, Henrietta's body talk was even worse, seeing as how she was making him _hungry_. His stomach let out a low growl, and the person to quirk a brow _this_ time was Henrietta.

"Say, how about I buy you a cinnamon bun from the coffee shop at the end of the street?"

Kenny's mouth began to water uncontrollably. "God, I'd fucking tattoo your name on my left ass cheek if you did that."

"What an _honor_," she smirked. "Now Death will _have_ to know my name…"

Kenny snorted, and Henrietta let out a light chuckle between puffs. They started their snowy trek to the coffee shop, and as they walked, Kenny looked over at her, curious.

"Henrietta," he said, "being a Goth and all…I'm sure you've planned out your death numerous times before…" She gave him an odd 'where do you get your information?' look, but he simply continued. "I mean, you said you didn't care whether you lived or died, but I was wondering if you'd ever had a _preferred_ method of death… Like, if you were to die _right_ now, how would you want it done?"

She looked up thoughtfully. "Hmmm…I've never given it much thought."

Kenny just stared at her. "Oh _really_? You've _never_ thought about it. Even a _little_? Even a teensy tiny amount, you've never given it any thought?"

"…Okay, I admit it. I _have_. We _all_ have, and I think you should ask Thorne and Peter theirs sometime today. You might be surprised by how _normal_ they are. But _mine's_ embarrassing, and you'll probably give me a strange look."

Kenny's eyes widened, and the corners of his mouth tugged upward. "Ooooh, it's _embarrassing_?? Now _this_ I've got to hear… Embarrassing for a _Goth_? Is this some childhood _fantasy_ or something, Henrietta?" He chuckled, and Henrietta silenced him with a glare that could kill. He swallowed, despite the fact that he'd stopped being afraid of anything years ago. "………..Well, you don't have to worry. I won't tell anyone."

She smiled, her cheeks flaring up. "Actually, I say we change the subject. At the time, it seemed like a good idea, but now it's just stupid. Which death, out of all the ones you've had, is _your_ fav–"

"No, no, no. We're talking about _your_ death, Henrietta!" He smiled wickedly, sidling up as close as was possible and staring straight at her. He'd get her to break. "What's your ideal death, Henry? Come on Henry, tell me your big dark secret!"

"_Don't_ call me Henry. That's my Dad's name."

"I'll stop calling you Henry when you tell me your ideal death…Henry."

"Stop it. You don't know _how_ big of a grudge I have against my Dad for being lazy and naming me after him. If you want a cinnamon bun, you'll shut the hell up."

"Come on, Henry. _Any_ death you can come up with will be embarrassing. The entire topic is too melodramatic to be considered serious. So come on. I'll tell you mine if you tell me yours. Besides, your friends know. If all else fails I'll just ask them…**Henry**."

She grit her teeth, hands clenching and nearly crushing the cigarette as she brought it up for another drag. "The death I told them all out loud was never the ideal, alright? Even if you were to ask them, it'd be a fucking lie like every other thing that comes out of my mouth."

He blinked, actually surprised by her anger. He didn't recall ever seeing her angry at school. Well, except in that fight with Wendy Testaburger. "Say…are you…er…okay? I mean, this is different than how you usually act…"

"Of course it's different. This is how I really feel right now. For once I'm not putting on an _act_." She took another labored drag. "B-Besides…like I said, it's stupid." She looked away, her face warming. And after a while – "…Just…don't tell anyone, alright?"

Kenny nodded stupidly, hanging onto every word now. _This,_ he had to hear.

She took a deep breath before clearing her throat. "I always thought…that if I were able to die, I'd choose the least horrifying thing possible. And I thought… Well, I thought if I were to have a choice in how I died, I'd want…er…well, I'd want something comforting before taking my last breath… So…I always thought I'd prefer to…um… …" She finally sighed and spoke quickly. "I'd want Nicholas to do it. As long as he were the one to kill me, I probably wouldn't care what the method would be."

She took a long drag and laughed, shrugging her shoulders. "Like I said, it's stupid now. Plausible, with the way that dick is acting, but stupid."

Kenny just stared at her, for the first time since the first ten times he died, a sick feeling of dread settling at the pit of his belly. There was something…disturbing…about it. Not the whole "I'd want so-and-so to do it," of course. No, he had no problem with that at all. In fact, he'd probably want his friends to do it if he knew he were going to die…at least, for the final time. Having someone comforting would probably be best. If he knew they wouldn't hate themselves after, of course. (That ruled Stan out.) What scared him the most was that she said it was plausible now. Their group was _really_ torn to pieces, and he could see why they'd try to blame everything on Stan.

He cleared his throat, wanting to move on immediately. "Well, what did you tell them you'd prefer?" he pressed. "I can see why you wouldn't tell them the ideal…now that I know it and everything."

"What _did_ I tell them?" she mused to herself, honestly trying to remember. "It was something generic, I remember. Something like OD. I think it was ODing on painkillers or something. Dad takes them for his hernia, so I had access to painkillers. I figured that would be something they'd actually believe." She pursed her lips. "Though, come to think of it, they'd probably believe anything I told them if it related to suicide."

She shrugged, taking another drag. "Like I said, we were stupid kids then. We aren't anymore. At least…_we_ aren't…" Her voice held a tone of bitterness to it, and Kenny could easily guess who she included in that "we" and who was the odd man out.

They reached the coffee shop then, and she went in and ordered a coffee. Kenny, always associating coffee with that one death from the underpants gnomes all those years ago, refused a cup and instead received his cinnamon bun and a piece of cheesecake leftover from the previous day while he was at it.

They both took their seats outside, and Henrietta shrugged the jacket closer to her body in a futile attempt to get warm. Kenny did the same with his worn orange parka, futilely only because of the numerous amounts of holes and scratches and chewing marks he managed to accumulate over the past year he finally got a new one. Numerous deaths, including that most recent one with a nest of raccoons, had done a number on his clothes. Shit. And he was supposed to keep the new ones intact through _high school_?

She smiled, taking a sip of her coffee and tossing her cigarette out in the snow. One fix to another. "I can't believe we never talked with you before. You'd think we'd worship the ground you walked on for being a living dead boy…"

Kenny just shrugged. "Trust me," he said as he took a savage, feral bite from his cinnamon bun. "I've been wondering the same thing. It's mainly because I can't stand people who act morbid twenty-four seven. And you four _were_ like that."

She propped her chin in her hand, taking a sip of coffee. "You'd be surprised. The second Nicholas graduated, Thorne and Peter started acting different. It was bizarre, really. Thorne wasn't as mopey, and Peter stopped calling people conformists. That's how I knew Nicholas was the one to blame for their behavior. I have to admit, I was way more ashamed of how I was acting after he left. It was like his hypnosis had faded away, and then he started being grumpier."

Kenny stared at her. "Are you sure he wasn't just grumpier because he didn't get to see you three in school? Maybe high school's shitty for him. Not having any friends to be there for him… I mean…did he ever tell you guys _how_ to act? How can you know that for sure?"

"I met him after he'd known Peter and Thorne for a while. I wouldn't know. He never did for me, probably because I was a girl." She shrugged, feigning disinterest. "It's not like having Nicholas around _made_ us want to act any different. I was wanting to act different than him ever since…" She trailed off, her jaw clenching.

Kenny took another bite of the cinnamon bun, getting cream all over his upper lip and the corners of his mouth. "Ever since Stan, right?"

She shook her head, as if from a daze she hadn't realized she'd been in. Her eyebrows knitted together, and she took another sip of her coffee. "No…it…it wasn't Stan. It was…" Her face scrunched up. "It was actually what _Butters_ had said. Stan just reinforced it."

Kenny stifled a laugh. "Butters!? It was what _Butters_ said?? That's rich! Leave it to _that_ goof to do something good!!"

"Huh." Her eyes widened and she took another drink, her expression almost as if she wanted to whistle. "Wow. That just opened up a can of worms I never knew was there."

Kenny forced a laugh, almost hesitant to find out. "Don't tell me you want _Butters_ instead of Stan now."

"Oh, of course not." She gave him a wink. "The only blond for _this_ Barbie is you, Ken."

Kenny sighed, his eyes returning to her breasts. "Yeah, you should watch what you say. Me and my brother have a habit of reading signs wrong…" He wiped the glaze off of his face, licking it off of his fingers as he did so.

Her face then fell. "I've been meaning to ask… Doesn't Shelley treat your brother like shit? Doesn't she bother you? I mean, don't you just hate her with every fiber of your being?"

Kenny finished off his cinnamon bun and started on his cheesecake. "Oh, no, actually. About hating her or being bothered by her, that is. It's true she treats my brother like shit. Stan's sister is a bitch, yes, but everyone just sets themselves up for being miserable. She's a bitch to her brother, but Stan never puts his foot down in a way that will make Shelley see he's serious. She's a bitch to _my_ brother, but only because my brother can't take a hint so she can't think of any other way to make _him_ see she's serious. She's a bitch to _us_ because, by associating with Stan, we become just like him. Kyle put his foot down to Shelley – at least, that's what he told me – and she did stop being so rude to him. I've heard that recently she's been _real_ nice to her brother, too. "

"Oh is she now? And what makes you think that?"

Kenny finished his cheesecake.

Henrietta stared at him.

"Because of that list," he replied nonchalantly.

He burped, and Henrietta's throat tightened.

"…Why would she be nice to him because of that list?"

Kenny shrugged. "Probably because it's true. He's got a total hard-on for Kyle."

Her hand clenched around her cup, and she furrowed her eyebrows. "Wh…Why would you even think that? I mean, he's…"

"Dating you? Well yeah, but I think that's just a ruse."

She swallowed the lump in her throat and looked back at her coffee. "Well, so…er…how long have you known?"

The blond grinned. "Since you told me just now, Henrietta." She groaned, and he elaborated. "Oh, don't worry. I won't be telling anyone else. What he does is his own business. I've really got no right to get onto him for that since I've done worse for money. And Kyle–"

"You can't tell Kyle!"

His eyes widened, and he stared at her. "What…? _Why_?"

"He doesn't want Kyle to know… So you can't…"

"But I think Kyle's got just as much of a hard-on for Stan as Stan does for him! If I told Kyle–"

"I wouldn't be able to pretend to be Stan's girlfriend." She stood, clearing her throat. "Stan goes on about me being better than my friends, I'm sure… And I'm sure your friends all think I'm a pretty cool person…but…but Cartman's right. I'm a fat bitch. I'm only using Stan. I figure as long as he uses me, it'll be fine if I use him. So you can't tell Kyle, no matter how sure you are of his hard-on for Stan. Because then what will I be left with?"

Kenny blinked. "What are you using Stan _for_? You got your friends back, and they aren't acting high-and-mighty like that other Goth kid……" He trailed off when Henrietta looked away, and he bit his lip. "Oh. …I see why you hate Shelley now…"

She cleared her throat and tossed her half-full cup of coffee into the trash. "It's not working. Not that you asked or anything, but I'm starting to wonder if any of this is worth all of the shit I'm tearing up in my room. Still…don't tell Kyle. …Because there's no telling when things may change…"

After a while, Kenny stood and they both started walking back to the school.

"Say, who do you think posted that list around school, anyway?" he queried.

If she had an idea, she wasn't saying it. Instead she kept quiet, brooding.

–––––––––––––––––––––––

Kids were filing into the building by the time Kenny and Henrietta reached the school again. Not by much, of course, but there were kids getting to school. Surprisingly, two little black dots alerted them to _some_ people being disturbingly early for once. Henrietta's jaw dropped, she whispered their names, but found she couldn't get their attention with just that. Kenny just rolled his eyes and did what he did best.

"Thorne! Er….little Goth kid! Get your pasty white asses over here!!"

They both turned, Thorne looking like he was trying not to laugh, with Peter looking like he was trying hard not to cry. The two pairs met up halfway, and Thorne snickered.

"Hey, how'd Death's doormat know my ass was pasty? You been haunting me lately, Kenny?"

Kenny looked over at Henrietta, stunned. "Is that seriously what you four call me?"

"Yeah, actually," she replied with a forced smirk. "Fitting, right?"

"…Gotta steal that nickname from you," he grinned. "Not even _Cartman_ calls me that. I like it a hell of a lot more than Welfare Boy. Anyway…" He turned to the Goth boys, wiggling his eyebrows. "Henrietta just told me her ideal death. I'll tell you mine if you tell me yours."

Peter, for the first time in forever, actually heightened his voice. It was no wonder he never spoke loudly; he sounded like he hadn't quite hit puberty yet. "You _told_ him, Henrietta?? I thought Nicholas said that would be a secret between all of us! You agreed to his proposal!"

She smiled. "Well, as long as he's breaking promises, I figure I might as well, too. Besides, it's not like we take that whole death thing seriously anymore. I'm interested in hearing Kenny's ideal death."

Thorne was the first to react, absolutely deprived. "It'd definitely be sexual asphyxiation for me."

Henrietta and Peter both looked at him, their jaws dropping, and Kenny had to bite back a laugh. After a while, Peter hissed. "You told us your ideal death would be a hunting accident."

The older Goth chuckled. "And I still can't believe you three believed me. If I'd said sexual asphyxiation, you would've turned red and fainted, Henrietta would've scolded me for being vulgar, and Nicholas would've never let me live it down. And do you guys honestly think I'm the type of person who'd go _hunting_? Maybe my trigger happy father, but _not_ me." He looked up at the sky, thoughtfully. "Wouldn't death by grizzly be _fan_tastic? Think about it: you wouldn't even have any remains! I change my death to that. Definitely."

Kenny cleared his throat, speaking from _personal _experience. "Actually, bears _do_ leave remains. I don't know where you got your information on that, but they do." He cleared his throat, adding as an afterthought, "It's the wolves that finish off the remains," followed with a shudder.

"Ah, shoot. You stole my death, doormat."

Kenny grinned wryly. "I'm sure I've stolen every death that could cross your morbid little brains."

"Eaten alive by fairies?" Peter suggested, just to see how off-the-wall they could get. Knowing South Park, _very_.

"Well, it depends on your definition of fairies. If you mean radicals in a gay parade, then yes. Not literally, but figuratively."

'_Ah. Yes. That's South Park for you,'_ Peter thought to himself.

"What about you, Panda Pete?" Thorne glanced down at Peter and nudged him. The other Goths gave him strained looks, but he simply ignored it. Kenny, on the other hand, had to fight not to laugh. Thorne just brushed the hair out of his eyes and looked at Peter again. "Was death by hanging _really_ your ideal method of death?"

"…Well…" he admitted after a pause. "At the time it _was_. But then I realized I was too small and too light to break my neck on the way down. I'd wind up struggling for air and suffocating in the most inhumane way possible… If I had to choose a death…I'd choose something peaceful…like organ failure or something. Something where I just drift off to sleep and never wake up…"

Everyone stood there in stunned silence until Kenny patted him on the back. "…Yeah… That was my favorite death by far. I agree with you."

Kenny then shrugged the moment off easily – he was used to it, after all – and looked over at Henrietta. "Well, I don't know about you two, but the little one seems to be the most normal out of all of you. You sure he's a Goth kid anymore?"

Peter's eyebrows furrowed, and Thorne glanced at Henrietta, speaking the little one's thought immediately. "ODing seems normal. Why include Henrietta in my weird bear death?"

Kenny shut his lips, and Thorne's eyes twinkled. His smile widened, spreading to the corners of his cheeks, and his eyebrows quirked. "Oh. I see she lied, too. What was your ideal death, Henrietta?"

Henrietta bit her lip, looking down at the grass. Immediately, her face paled. "Oh, wait. My lipstick!" She cursed and immediately began digging for her compact and lipstick. Kenny laughed, and she looked over at him. "What?"

"You're…well…you're not wearing make-up today, Henrietta…"

Her jaw dropped. "I…I haven't put it on yet?"

Thorne and Peter just stared at her, both mumbling quiet no's.

Her eyes flickered. "Why didn't you three tell me!? Now I look hideous!"

Kenny gave her an odd look. "Actually, you look more human today, Henrietta. Too bad I can't say the same for your friends." His eyes darted toward the boys, their faces painted white and lips smeared with black lipstick and their eyes darkened with eyeliner. He snorted. "Wooooow. Now I've seen everything. You two are wearing more makeup than a girl. Nice."

Thorne's eyes narrowed. "Why are you helping her change the subject?"

"Because it's not interesting."

"Because it's enough for _you_ to consider it abnormal. What is it?"

"Nothing."

"It's everything! She's never had to hide things from us before! Why start now!? And why help her??"

"Because she told me not to tell _anyone_!"

Thorne seethed, looking back over at Henrietta. "Henrietta, you can trust _us_, right? We're like…your best friends." He frowned, and it became obvious his mood was spiraling downward. "We even came right out and told you ours, despite how embarrassing they were. That's hardly fair."

She stared into the mirror, ignoring his gaze as she applied a heavy dose of eyeliner around her right eye. When she was done, she switched eyes. "Thorne, if I were to tell you mine, it would open up a whole can of worms I'd rather not explain. Could we just drop it?"

It was Peter who spoke up next, stunning them all with the weight of his remark. "We're not going to _tell_ Nicholas. He broke promises; we break promises. Can't you just tell us?"

The mirror dropped from her hand, plastic cracking on the concrete of the sidewalk as the hinge came loose, and glass shattered as far as the mounds of snow on each side would allow. She paused for a brief second before she turned to stare blankly at him. "Baby bat."

He looked up, his face stiff. His eyes were absolutely clear, without a hint of the usual insecurity that were normally in them. He pursed his lips together before looking away. "Don't act like _you_ wouldn't be quick to keep secrets from him, either."

"I know. But." She never finished.

"Henrietta, don't even worry about it. If you don't trust us, that's fine." Thorne looked away. "You had no problem telling me everything when you spent the night. I mean, to admit you were wrong like that… I thought you'd really come back to us."

"And I did."

He sighed, shaking his head. "And yet, here you are, asking us to choose. The only reason why we've chosen you is the fact that we both have each other for guy time. If Pete weren't around, I'd probably choose Nicholas. How do you think _he_ feels? Seriously, Henrietta. He's so angry now. Angrier than he used to be. When are you two going to put whatever it is between you and him behind you? Nicholas isn't man enough to do it. I at least hoped you'd be man enough to take the first step."

"I'm _not_ a man, Thorne."

"And neither is Nicholas. Your point? One of you has to be the man. I just thought it'd be you." He turned around, nudging Peter's shoulder. "Come on, Pete. Let's go find some classes to skip."

Peter nodded, and Henrietta's face flushed. She walked after them, leaving Kenny behind. "Guys, seriously, it's embarrassing. I just… Will you _listen_? It's not that I'm afraid you'll tell Nicholas! I'll tell you, just please don't walk away!! I need you two!"

Kenny sighed as the two Goths turned to her and she caught up. He rolled his eyes. How glad he was there was no girl in _his_ circle of friends. Too much drama. What was with girls and bringing drama with them wherever they went? It was obvious now that the main problem was Henrietta, not Nicholas at all. Sheesh. When would girls learn that guys _hated_ getting involved in their problems?

Now…just one more hour and he'd be able to check on good ol' Stan Marsh.

––––––––––––––––––––––

Wendy Testaburger walked down the halls to her locker, pausing briefly to glance over at her make-up in someone's locker mirror. She turned her head to see Bebe flirting the wallet out of Clyde's pocket. He looked as if he were starting to crack. _No_ one could resist Bebe's method of charming to get what she wanted. And, with Clyde's father owning a shoe store in the mall, Bebe had her sights on his access to the hippest shoes in South Park. Again.

Wendy came in close enough to hear how the scam was turning out.

Bebe brushed her curled blond locks over her shoulder and looked seductively at her ex through long black eyelashes and half-lidded eyes– though, admittedly, one eye was temporarily lidded around the clock thanks to a certain cat fight.

"So, Clyde…" she said, in a voice barely over a whisper. "I was wondering if you'd be willing to come over to my place today…" Clearing her throat, she arched her back _just_ slightly to puff out her chest…and accentuate the extra-helping of goodies she inherited from her mother. "We could fool around and have a little fun…" She gave him a sweet little smile, looking completely honest. "I want to get back together with you. I've _missed_ you…"

Clyde's eye twitched, and he rubbed the back of his head, trying his hardest not to look at the swelled part of her face. "Uh…aren't you dating that high-schooler right now? He's taking you to prom and everything."

Her expression fell before she put on a tight-lipped façade of heart-ache. "Well, you see…he…he broke up with me…" For extra effect, she put a hand to the damages and stifled a sob. "He says he wants nothing to do with me anymore, because of a simple little injury. I never knew he was so _shallow_, but…but I know you'd _never_ judge anyone by their appearance… You've always been such a _kind_ and _generous_ person, Clyde."

There was a brief moment of silence before she peeked up from her hand to see if it'd landed. Clyde, needless to say, was speechless.

"So what do you say?" she continued hopefully. "Do you want to take me back? Will you forgive me for breaking up with you?"

He rubbed the back of his head before clearing his throat and looking away. "See, Bebe, it's kind of difficult…um…looking at you."

Her jaw dropped.

"Your face is just…well… Maybe _after_ the swelling goes down, okay?"

He turned to walk away, but she grabbed his elbow in a fit of desperation. "Clyde, I can't wait that long!! The shoes will be gone by…" He turned to give her a horribly offended look, and Bebe just trailed off into silence. "by…Sa…Saturday…"

"You know what? Craig was _right_ about you, Bebe," he declared. "You're just a shallow bitch. I really don't know _what_ I ever saw in you."

Wendy sighed in aggravation and swooped in for the rescue. She steered into the vicinity, catching Bebe's arm and giving her a firm squeeze around the waist. "Oh, Bebe! You finally asked him! Now we can go buy those cute new shoes for your big make-up date with Clyde!!"

Clyde's jaw dropped. "What? We're not… But…the shoes…"

"He…Oh, he doesn't want me until the swelling goes down, Wendy," Bebe squeezed through pursed lips. "And he just…he just _assumed_ I wanted him to buy me _shoes_ or something… I just…I don't know if…" She forced out a sob, turning into her best friend's shoulder.

Wendy smirked. Bebe was playing into the part _well_. "There will be _other_ guys, Bebe. We can always get you those seductive little pumps and save them for someone hot enough to see the girly side of you." She raised her eyebrows. "Hey, _Kyle_ would probably _love_ to see you show your more feminine side…"

Her gaze turned icy as it shifted toward Clyde. He squirmed as she huffed out the killing blow– "And I can't believe you'd assume the worst of her, Clyde. She doesn't want your _shoes_. She wants a guy who will finally look at who she is on the _inside_. And the second they're a little bit independent guys even accuse them of trying to swindle them out of something! I guess I was wrong about you, Clyde."

Now, Clyde Donovan had changed over the years. He _had_ been considered fat, but he'd worked on that and transformed it all into muscle. He _was_ the most attractive boy in elementary school, but he'd lost it to Stan, whose skinny physique and sensitivity made him popular among the girls, while his stocky football build and bad crew cut only seemed to attract Bebe anymore. He _had_ had as nasally of a voice as Craig had, but that had dissipated quite a deal when he hit puberty.

But…

There were two things that hadn't changed at all over the years. Clyde still hated being laughed at or made out to be a fool…

…and he was still incredibly gullible.

"Bebe, I never meant to insult you," he mumbled, rubbing his arm anxiously. "I just…well, when you broke up with me, Craig started telling me all of these things like you were taking advantage of me and…well…I started to believe them. I really _do_ want you back. I _always_ have…" His cheeks tinged pink as if he'd admitted it out loud for the very first time.

Bebe's face fell, and she looked over at Wendy. Wendy just smiled, oblivious, and mentally patted herself on the back for a job well done. It thrilled her so much to help her friends.

"I'll leave you two alone, then," Wendy crooned as she traipsed off to her locker.

Bebe just shifted from foot to foot and took turns glancing at Clyde and the floor. The guilt weighed heavily, and she soon found herself unable to escape a staring contest with the sneaker-tracked tiles of the hallway.

"I'll get my mom to drive us to the mall," Clyde planned eagerly. "And I can buy you those shoes you wanted. Boy, my mom's sure going to be glad to see us going out again."

She sighed. "I've already got a ride home. Wendy's dad always comes to pick her up. I'll…I'll talk to you later, –" The sentence stopped short as his name died on her lips. "Later," she amended.

"Cool. I'll sit with you at lunch…maybe?"

"Um. I have a project due tomorrow and I need to, um…work on it some more in the library." She began glancing around for an escape, but Clyde wouldn't give her that option at all. He _still_ managed to cling to her like a leech, just like old times. Not that she didn't mind the attention…but this had gotten a bit out of hand. He'd waited for her for a whole year…and…well…it _was_ flattering…but now she couldn't even look him in the face without feeling guilty!

Clyde smiled. "I'll try and help if you need–"

"Look," she said through clenched teeth. "This has been an emotional moment for both of us." She tried to smile, but failed. "Let's…not ruin it by seeing too much of each other. That's…why…I broke up with you the first time, and…well…I'd…" Damn it all to hell, she was digging her own grave. "I'd…like for it to…actually work this time."

"Oh, alright," Clyde replied with absolute faith. She was already walking away when a grin finally lit up his face and he shouted down the hall after her. "I'll call you tonight!" He chuckled. "I still have your number in my cell phone!" Turning back to his locker, Clyde found his best friend leaning against it, shaking his head sadly.

"You're a fucking _idiot_," murmured Craig. "After the thousands of warnings I gave you about Bebe…you had to take the bait all over again."

"Oh," Clyde snapped, slamming his locker shut with a loud, metallic crash. "And I suppose alone time with your _guinea pig_ is a better alternative to girls, Craig?"

"Clyde, girls _are_ guinea pigs. They'll stick with you longer when you keep giving them stuff they may or may not need, but if you take your eye off of them for one _second_, they'll be escaping through the crack underneath your bedroom door, leaving you with nothing but a cage full of unused toys and shit for you to dump in the garbage bin."

"I'm amazed at your pessimism in love."

"I'm a _realist_, Romeo."

"Oh, and what would that make me, Gandhi? An optimist? A _dreamer_?"

"Trusting Machiavelli over Gandhi makes you an _idiot_."

Craig started off down the hall listlessly, and Clyde cursed under his breath. "Yeah, and you're just a guy with fucked up teeth who's bitter about not being able to score a girlfriend. …Even if she has a purple face…" He shivered at the thought. A split second later, he grimaced. "Damn it. _Where_ does Craig come up with this philosophical shit? I'm _still_ trying to figure out where Paisley is and why it's having problems with earthquakes…"

Meanwhile, Bebe was heading toward the bathroom to clear her head. Toward the very end of the hall, just past her first period class, lay the bathroom hardly anyone used. When she opened the door, she discovered it _was_ used, though not for the toilet. Smoke wafted toward her face, and it sent her stomach into knots.

The culprit looked up and smiled. "Oh. Bebe. I apologize about the face, by the way. You just messed with the wrong cub."

The blonde coughed violently, fanning it away as best as she could. Her stomach clenched and she hurried to a stall to promptly throw up. Henrietta just waited patiently until the sounds of heaving ended in the flushing of whatever Bebe had for breakfast that morning down the toilet. She stumbled out and went to the sink, sniffing a little.

"It'd help if…" She turned on the sink, wet her hand, and clamped it over her nose and mouth as she sucked in a breath. "Well, it'd help if you put that out. My stomach would be grateful," she said wearily.

"Alright. I'll be sure to do that," the ex-Goth-now-re-Goth said lamely as she snuffed it against the rim of the sink. "If you need me to leave, then I'd be more than happy to do that."

Bebe paused before considering her predicament. She sighed, washed her hands, and set to redoing her make-up. She had to wear a pound of concealer, and the bruise purple _still_ showed through. She'd been doing it after every class, just to be sure. If she didn't quit soon, she'd have a severe break-out on her hands.

"No, I need some…er…advice…"

"Oh my. I ruin your pretty looks and you ask for pointers? I don't think that'd be a–"

"Does using Clyde's inability to get over me to get him to buy me a pair of shoes make me a bad person?"

Henrietta quirked a brow at her, opened her mouth to speak, shook her head and decided against her previous chain of thought. Clearing her throat and giving Bebe a snippy little smile, she found her voice after a moment. "…Let's see if I got this right. You preyed on someone's emotions for a pair of _shoes_?"

"…Yes…" Henrietta stayed silent, and finally Bebe pleaded, her eyebrows knitting together. "Well, are you going to answer my question?"

"No. I'm pretty sure your desire to ask for my advice answers that question. If you want to hear it out loud, then yes. It's a terrible thing to do, but you at least have the decency to feel guilty about it. Let's just hope you have the decency to go apologize to Clyde."

"But…if I do…"

Henrietta rolled her eyes and sighed. "Dear God, don't tell me you're afraid he'll hate you. This is the ugly football player you told everyone was clingy and didn't leave you any time for yourself. You should be _glad _to get rid of him."

"Yes, but if I admit it to him, he'll just go tell–"

The door swung open, and Wendy cleared her throat. "Bebe, I need your textbook for…" She stopped and eyed the girl behind Bebe, pursing her lips together. "Oh. Henrietta." She brushed her hand to her hair and realized her hair was too short now to flick over her shoulder. She deflated for a brief second before clearing her throat angrily.

"Bebe, could you give me and Henrietta some time alone?"

"…Oh…right… Sorry, Wendy. I'll drop my book off with Red for you. Be sure I have it back by lunch. I'm going to be…um…skipping lunch again."

"Thank you."

Bebe hurried out of the room and the door slammed shut behind her. For a brief moment the two girls just stared each other down before Wendy smiled at her.

"Where's your fag, Henrietta?" she sniffed. "I would have assumed he'd be in the girl's bathroom with you."

Henrietta chuckled. "Oh, he is." She handed Wendy her cigarette. "Be sure to throw him away, will you?"

Wendy huffed. "That's _not_ funny, you cunt! You know I meant Stan!"

Henrietta cleared her throat. "Now, now, Wendy. I'm sure you didn't come here to compare me to your mother."

"You…fat– You think you're _so_ smart, Henrietta," Wendy narrowed her eyes, pointing at the Goth girl threateningly. "But you know what? I'm just as smart as you, if not more, and I am going to make your life a living _hell_. I will _ruin_ you."

Henrietta was quiet for a moment before she shrugged her shoulders. "I just hope you wind up hurting me instead of Stan. How will spreading rumors about Stan's sexuality really make _me_ miserable, Wendy?" She leaned against the sink, her eyes staring beyond Wendy, toward the door of the bathroom. "Who are you _really_ trying to get revenge on? Stan? Or me?"

"You, of course. Your ugly Goth friend _ruined my hair_!!!"

"Take that up with him. Not me or Stan," Henrietta snapped as she stomped past her and out the bathroom. "Continuing to be angry at a lost cause is _never_ healthy."

–––––––––––––––––––––

"Hey, Kyle," Kenny said, clamping a hand on his friend's shoulder. Craig wandered past them, looking off in his own little world – he'd been doing that a lot lately, come to think of it – and the blond immortal gave Kyle a winning, hopefully uplifting, grin. "Where's Stan? He's not jacking off in the bathroom again, is he?"

Kyle just looked at him and rolled his eyes. "No. Shelley picked us up today, but he wasn't with her. She said he told her he'd be walking…" He grimaced.

"So he's avoiding us again today?"

Kyle snapped, looking over at him. "No, he is not avoiding us today, Kenny. He's not avoiding _us_, he's avoiding **me**, god damn it!!"

Kenny shrugged. "Maybe he just wanted the exercise. I mean, those skinny jeans haven't been looking as skinny as they used to… He probably wanted to burn breakfast off or something…"

Kyle groaned, opening his locker and grabbing his math textbook. "He hasn't looked fatter at all. In fact, he looks _skinner_ than he used to. Those pants are a bit looser than they used to be. But I _commend_ you for trying to cheer me up." His voice dripped with sarcasm. "Close, but no cigar."

Blinking, Kenny whistled. "I never noticed how skinny he is. How would _you_ know his pants looked looser?"

"Oh, I don't know. _Maybe_ I've been looking at his _ass_ a lot lately." He scowled and began flipping through his textbook. A brief second later, he looked up to see Kenny just staring at him. "What? You think I was being serious? That was a fucking joke, dude."

When Kyle's cheeks flared angrily, Kenny decided not to tell him that the Nile was not just a river in Egypt. He sighed and looked up at the ceiling, listening to the clamor of kids shuffling their books together.

"Hey, guys…"

Both teens turned to see Stan staring at them, his voice absolutely dead, his eyes outlined with thick black eyeliner. Kenny groaned and looked away. This would _not_ be pretty. Not with Stan turning into…well…whatever he was today. The last thing anyone needed was for Kyle to overre–

"What the fuck are you wearing, Stan?" Kyle hissed.

"Just whatever I had lying around." Stan shrugged, not really caring at the moment. His hair didn't even look brushed, his posture was slumped, and his face was completely blank.

Kenny sniffed the air, trying to lighten the mood. "Do I smell a hint of cave moss? Staaaan, if you wanted to get a ride to school from your bat friends, you could've just _said_ so, dude."

"Shut the fuck up, Kenny," Kyle snapped, his eyes on Stan the entire time. "Stan." He took a deep breath, and continued. "Is this because of Henrietta? Or is it because of her freaky friends?"

Stan sighed, too, and rolled his eyes. "I just felt like wearing this today. Can't I just feel like wearing whatever the hell I feel like without you nagging me? Does everything I do have to be influenced by the people around me, Kyle? Christ, dude. You're as bad as your mom."

"Don't bring my mother into this, Stan. I _know_ it was Henrietta."

Finally, Stan had had enough. "Tch." He shook his head. "Kyle, just shut the fuck up. Henrietta's been the only one I can count on right now, so you just shut the _fuck_ up. You know what? I can't…I…I–I just can't deal with this anymore! There's just too much pressure." He shook his head and went to his locker, swinging it open and grabbing a pencil.

Kyle glared. "Oh, so you're Tweek now, too!?"

Stan instead looked over at Kenny. "I'll talk to you at lunch when you calm down. Come on, Kenny. We've got first period together."

Kyle turned and stared at the blond expectantly.

Well, shit. Both of them were now staring at _him_. On one hand, he had Stan, his best friend for years. On the other hand, he had Kyle…who had also been his best friend for years. Who was he supposed to choose? How could they even _ask_ him to choose!?

"Uh…well…" Kenny glanced at Kyle, who was giving him the scariest look he'd ever received from anybody. He glanced back at Stan, who merely stared at him complacently. If he chose Kyle, Stan would feel like shit. If he chose Stan, Kyle would tear him a new one. He cleared his throat, and opted for the easy way out–

"Uh…_actually_ I was planning to skip first period with Thorne and the little Goth kid. They're…uh…at ends with Henrietta right now, and I sorta want to help the poor girl out…"

Stan perked up. "They're at ends with her? What for?"

Kyle just blinked. "You're _helping_ Henrietta, Kenny? What the hell _for_?"

'_Damn it all to hell, you idiot! That was the worst excuse ever! Now Kyle will think you're getting all friendly with Henrietta and her freaky friends, too!'_ Kenny groaned mentally. Not that he wasn't getting all friendly with them, but now Kyle would assume they were _replacing_ him.

He sighed, shrugging his shoulders. "It'd take too long to explain. Uh…and I'm helping her out because she's…er…she's Stan's girlfriend. So I sorta have an obligation and…"

A voice behind them sent everyone's spines to the last level of hell.

"Oh God, yew gahs. Kinny's fucking lying."

And then something happened that saved the entire conversation. Stan, Kyle, and Kenny both looked back at the offending fatass and snapped. Using their patented guy minds, they managed to all get on the same wavelength.

"Shut the fuck up, Cartman! No one was fucking talking to you!"

"Yeah, fatass! This isn't your conversation! Butt out!"

"Go flirt with Wendy or something!!"

"She's probably desperate now that I've broken up with her!"

"She'll probably fuck the first thing in sight!"

"Even a fatassed, hate-filled prick like you!"

Cartman's jaw dropped, and he stomped off muttering something incoherent.

Kyle looked at Stan, Stan looked at Kenny, and Kenny looked at Kyle. A grin spread across their faces, and Kenny nodded at them. "Nice, guys. I don't think Cartman will sit with us at lunch today."

"Are you kidding me, Kenny!?" Kyle laughed. "Go flirt with Wendy?? That was the best thing ever! Definitely a low blow for him!"

"Yeah, but he was probably more upset about her fucking the first thing in sight, Kyle. Good one," Stan laughed.

He chuckled and waved at them. "Well, I gotta get to class. See you at lunch, guys."

Kenny waved. "Right. See you at lunch."

They parted ways, and Kyle hurried after Stan.

"This isn't over yet, dude. Take that shit off your face!"

––––––––––––––––––

Back behind the school, the youngest Goth boys were sitting and staring at the sky. Thorne took a drag from his cigarette and pointed at the dark, extra puffy clouds with an idle finger. "Gonna snow soon," he told Peter.

Peter merely nodded. "Yep," he replied listlessly.

"Hope we have a blizzard and get a day off from school."

Peter shrugged. "Only if it's bad enough. Otherwise we'll have to gear up and ride our snowmobiles to school."

Thorne stifled a laugh, and Peter bit his lip to keep from laughing. The older Goth boy finally looked over and nudged him. "This isn't Alaska."

Peter bit his lip again. "Of course it's not… If this were Alaska we'd have to get the sled dogs out and head to school."

Thorne burst out laughing. "How do you think people in Alaska would feel if they heard you, Pete!? That's so…old school! I bet they have snowmobiles up there!"

Peter tried his hardest to fight the giggling rising up in his throat. "What?" He breathed through his nose. "People in Alaska _are_ old school! Otherwise they'd be–" He shut his mouth to keep from laughing. He breathed through his nose and shook his head to regain his composure. "Otherwise they'd be conformists, and people in Alaska don't follow anyone's rules but their own!"

Thorne howled with laughter and slapped Peter hard on the back. The slap forced Peter's mouth open and soon he was giggling uncontrollably. The older Goth boy cleared his throat and just smirked. He took a drag from his cigarette. "You should laugh like this more often, Pete. It would make Henrietta feel better to know you can let loose sometimes."

Peter sobered up real quick. "I thought we weren't talking to Henrietta until she worked things out with Nicholas. To…um…give her an incentive."

"Well, yeah. But that doesn't mean we still aren't going to be rooting for her."

"We're rooting for Nicholas, too, right?" Peter just stared at his best friend.

Thorne narrowed his eyes and sneered like he had a bad taste in his throat. "He's dating Raven's sister right now. As great as that is…he's not doing too well in trying to get back on Henrietta's good side. If he were _really_ trying, he'd be nice to Raven." He took another drag. "Right now all he's doing is making it look like he's dating that chick to get back at Raven."

Peter swallowed. "Thorne…"

"Hmmm? Want a smoke?"

"No, I'm saving that for after lunch, it's just… Well, I was wondering…about that…list…"

"The gay list Raven's ex spread around school to make his friendship with the Jewish kid crumble to pieces and make his life a living hell? What about it?"

"Well…speaking hypothetically…" He glanced back at Thorne, who nodded for him to continue. "Speaking hypothetically…if it were _true_…well…that would make Nicholas a prime suspect on getting it. Since he's dating Shelley."

Thorne just stared at him for a long time before he took a drag and looked up at the clouds again. "Well…_if_ it were true…Nicholas would be fucked. Henrietta's threatened to never forgive him if he hurt Raven… He wouldn't risk it, Pete."

"Well, yeah…but there's one thing I don't understand, though…"

"That is?"

"Well, Henrietta prefers Nicholas over Stan. If that's the case…_why_ is she dating Stan when she knows it'll just piss Nicholas off even more? Does she _want_ him to do something to hurt Stan? I mean…why is she dating Stan in the first place if that's the case?"

Thorne blinked before biting his lip. "Wait. Wait, wait, wait. Have you been wondering that this entire time?" Peter nodded, and Thorne gave him a strange look. "Why haven't you spoken up sooner? I've been trying to figure out what was so strange with Henrietta dating Raven, too! I mean, thinking about it now…" He took a shaky drag from his cigarette and leaned in close to Peter.

"Okay, speaking hypothetically, and I mean _only_ hypothetically– Henrietta wants Nicholas, but she's dating Raven. Nicholas gets pissed off and dates Raven's sister to, I don't know, dig up dirt on Raven or something. Raven breaks up with Wendy for no reason whatsoever, starts going out with Henrietta… Nicholas finds…something incriminating and spreads it around school…making Raven look gay… So…maybe Henrietta's–"

"Stop. I…I don't want to think about this anymore…"

"No, see, Henrietta goes out with Raven, Nicholas goes out with Raven's sister trying to get dirt, finds a list and spreads it around school. Henrietta and Raven play it off as a joke because…they both know–"

Peter leaned away and clenched his eyes shut, clamping his hands over his ears for protection. "Just stop it, Thorne!! Stan's not gay, Henrietta's dating Stan because she can't get Nicholas, and Nicholas is dating Shelley because he can't get Henrietta!! That's the way it is! Let's just stop speaking hypothetically!! I don't even know why I asked in the first place!!"

The bigger Goth took a drag and stared at him. "Sheesh, Pete. I've never seen you so upset. What's the big deal? It's not like it's true or anything…"

Peter took a deep breath and moved his hands to his eyes. His voice trembled. "But…But if it _was_ true, Henrietta would never forgive Nicholas and Stan would be suffering and Shelley would just be used and everything would just fall to pieces…and…and everyone would wind up miserable in the end…even me and you. All over again."

Thorne went silent and patted Peter on the shoulder. Crunches in the snow alerted them to someone approaching, and the two boys looked up to see Kenny coming towards them. He waved and walked over, shaking the snow off of his feet to take his place on the other side of Peter on the concrete.

Thorne blinked. "What are you doing here?"

"I wanted to skip first period," Kenny replied curtly, ending any interrogation the Goth boys would have had. He looked up at the sky and pointed at the dark, extra-puffy clouds with an idle finger.

"Gonna snow soon," he told them.

Both boys nodded. "Yep," they replied in unison, eager for the change in subject.

––––––––––––––––––––

Lunch came, and Kenny took his spot next to Kyle. Kyle sat across from Stan, slightly more relaxed that Stan had taken his advice and de-Gothed himself. Henrietta sat next to Stan, eating her lunch slower than normal. Thorne and Peter approached soon afterwards, immediately taking a spot next to Kenny.

Henrietta began picking at her food instead of eating it.

It wasn't until Cartman came and took a spot behind them at Craig's table (Kyle and Kenny and Stan all shared victorious looks.) that she put her fork down and cleared her throat. She looked over at Stan and nudged him with her elbow.

"Baby, I took up a modeling job over in Denver."

Stan looked over at her. "You took up _modeling_? That's great!" His smile lit up the table, though it didn't reach his eyes. "You'd make a great model, Henrietta! You've got great skin and everything!"

Kenny cleared his throat and impaled a noodle of his free lunch on his fork. "Not to mention she's got the _assets_ I'd jack off to…"

Kyle choked on his spoon of soup and shot him a glare. "Dude! That's not the thing you say to your best friend's girlfriend! _Especially_ in front of your best friend!! God, have some decency!"

Stan rolled his eyes. "This is _Kenny_, Kyle. What you're asking for is a miracle." He looked over at Kenny. "Thanks for the compliment, dude. I've got the hottest girlfriend in school," he said, sounding somewhat proud.

Henrietta chuckled. "I'm flattered that you jack off to me, Kenny."

Kenny just stared at her before he turned to Thorne, snickering. "Does she think I'm joking? I'm totally _not_ joking."

It was Thorne and Peter's turns to choke on their food, and Peter actually spewed his drink all over the empty space in front of him. He coughed; Thorne patted him on the back while giving Kenny a piercing glare. When things returned to normal, Thorne leaned over.

"I totally know what you mean," he whispered into Kenny's ear. "She's got rockin' tits. Bigger than Raven's ex, that's for sure."

Kenny burst out laughing. "Her tits _are_ bigger than Wendy's!! I'd wager they're bigger than Bebe's, too!!"

"What?" Henrietta hissed. She looked over at Thorne. "What did you just tell him, Thorne?"

Thorne immediately went back to his food, and Peter mumbled a snippy little, "It's really not that interesting enough to repeat…"

She looked back at her food, feeling like crap, and glanced at Stan. Her eyes roamed around the table, across the cafeteria, and she finally sighed. "Guys," she mumbled. "I'll tell you what my ideal death is. I'd just…like to tell you someplace more private, okay? I'll even patch things up with Nicholas…"

Peter looked at Thorne for the okay, and Thorne nodded. They both stood and shuffled around the table. Face brightening, Henrietta stood up and followed them out of the cafeteria.

And…Cartman leaned back and stole her food.

The remaining boys at the table had a feeling it would be best to leave well enough alone and continue on like normal. Knowing her, she'd just accept some of her friend's food and convince Stan to let her have some of his, all the while making a comment on Cartman's fat ass getting larger every day…just loud enough for him and all of Craig's table to hear.

Kyle chuckled to himself at the thought, and his best friends both looked at him. If there was one thing Henrietta was good for, it was making clever little gouges into Cartman's ego about his weight.

Kenny picked up on it and grinned. "Cartman's gonna be fucked when she gets back and sees her food is gone."

Stan nodded. "She can really cut into someone when she wants to. Like a razorblade or something…"

Kyle and Kenny found the comparison too funny to keep quiet about.

When their laughter died down, they had an unexpected guest. Wendy's heels tapped against the floor impatiently, and she looked down at them. Kenny looked over at her and grinned. "Oh, if it isn't a pair of tits and Wendy Testaburger. How are you doing today, Wendy's tits?"

"Can it, McCormick!" She gave Stan a simpering look and cleared her throat. "What's this I hear about Henrietta's breasts being larger than mine, Stan?"

Stan blinked and looked back at his friends before looking back at her. "Uh…Kenny's the one that said it… I was just eating lunch and–"

"I know it was you, Stan."

Kenny hissed across the table. "Careful, dude. They hear what they want to hear and you just stepped into _Bitch_ Central." Wendy's glare silenced him before he could say anything else.

Stan gulped and looked over at Kyle for some help. "Well, I actually–"

"I'm the one that said it, Wendy," Kyle interrupted.

She shot him a glare, but her expression softened. "Oh, I thought so. I knew Stan would never say anything like that. I'm sure he'd much prefer to make a comment about the size of your penis being larger than all of the other guys here."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Kyle hissed, red rushing to the surface of his face.

"It's like I've been telling you since that list came out. I was wondering when you'd start believing me."

Kyle opened his mouth to speak, but Stan cut him off. "You've been talking to her, too? You told me she was cheating on me and I found out you've been talking to her recently? How long have you been talking to her behind my back? Been _flirting_ with her?"

Kyle's jaw dropped. "Stan, it's seriously not like that. I haven't been talking to Wendy, and _certainly _not flirting. We've all got this unspoken promise to rip on her after treating you like shit. Right, Kenny?"

Kenny nodded. "Not supposed to be nice to her…except for her tits. We've got your back, Stan. By the way, now that you're done with her, can I have a ride?"

Wendy shot him a dirty look, but Stan was having a severe case of tunnel vision. "Yeah, but how do I know you haven't just been trying to confuse me, Kyle?"

"Confuse you? How would I confuse you?" Kyle stifled a laugh, trying to lighten the mood or snap Kyle out of it or make the whole thing blow over.

Kenny bit his lip and looked over at Stan to see the wild eyes of someone who had everything to hide, but no way of explaining himself without revealing it all. "Stan," he hissed. "I think you should–"

"Quiet, Kenny. Kyle, you came over to my house, you told me some guy was bragging about being with Wendy while we were dating, told me I shouldn't even be dating her since we've got nothing in common anymore, you stick up for me against Shelley, offer to do so much, and you even…you even–"

Henrietta strode up, her friends behind her. "Stan, what's–"

"You made me think I was gay, dude!! You were just trying to confuse me so you could get Wendy all to yourself, weren't you!?"

The cafeteria went completely silent, and Kyle sucked in a breath. His face flushed and he leaned back a little. "S…Stan…what…why would I want Wendy? I mean…why… Do you actually think I'd…I'd betray you like that? Jesus, Stan… Has this been why you've been acting strange? I thought it was because of the list, but… I mean, you said yourself that Wendy forged…everything…" He trailed off, his lips parted, trying to piece everything together in his head.

Henrietta looked over at Wendy, who looked somewhat surprised, and went over to Stan. "Babe, you should–"

"Kyle," Stan hissed, not in his right mind anymore. "Don't _even _use that list as an excuse. I fucking wrote that list myself. So don't act innocent. You found it and spread it around school. To get to Wendy."

Kyle blinked. "The list was…" His eyebrows knitted together, and his eyes widened. "_You_ wrote that list?"

Henrietta opened her mouth; Wendy finally seemed to suddenly snap out of whatever state of mind she'd been in in time with Stan. In an instant he stood, back in the cafeteria…back amidst everyone in school, everyone he'd be in high school with. "N…No! Ahahaha!! Why would you think _that_!? I told you Wendy forged it!!"

Henrietta stepped toward him and placed a hand on his back. "Stan…you just…admitted…everything… Weren't you listening to yourself?"

"…I…" His eyes widened, and his jaw dropped. "Oh…Oh my God… I just… Oh God…" A hand flew to his mouth and he made a mad dash for the bathroom.

Whispers began to fill the air in the cafeteria, and Henrietta glowered over at Wendy, practically spitting. "I hope you're satisfied with yourself."

Wendy gasped. "I…I was just… I never thought… I never wanted _this_ to happen! I just wanted you to break up with him!!"

Henrietta cursed under her breath and looked over at Kyle, who sat there in stunned silence, feeling a sick taste rise up in the back of his throat. A loud roar beside them rose above the whispers in the cafeteria.

"Craig, Craig, didn't I tell yew Stan was a fag!? He's a total fag!! Ah hahaha haha ha ha hahaha!!! Yew owe me twenty bucks, yew gahs!! Ahahaha!!! I can't believe you bet against me even after I showed the original list and the note that came with it!!"

All three of the Goth kids' heads whirled to Cartman so fast, Kenny could've sworn they were about to fly right off.

"Note?" Henrietta asked, voice tense. "What note?"

–––––––––––––––––––

Stan stood up from the toilet and flushed it, going to the sink to clean himself up. His hands trembled as he pulled the phone from his back pocket and flipped it open. With shaking fingers he pressed in each key, messing up a few times and having to start over again.

When he finally got it right the phone rang, then clicked.

A message played, and he started the process over again.

A third time, and then a fourth.

Finally, it picked up.

"Why the hell are you calling me, turd? I'm in school, and you're bothering me. _Maybe_ I was in a class. Did you ever think of that?"

"Shelley," he moaned. "I…I need you to pick me up…"

"What? No! I'm not helping you skip school. I've already missed enough."

"Shelley, please… I…the list…everyone knows, Shelley. I accidentally blurted it out at lunch and… Everyone knows I really wrote that list. Please, I don't… I just…I want to go home…" He was nearly on the verge of tears.

"Wait. They know you're…that you're–"

"Yes! Please come pick me up!! There's no way I can face my next class! Please!!"

Silence rang out on the other line, and Stan lowered his head and prepared to psyche himself up for what would be the first day of the rest of his miserable life.

Shelley huffed angrily.

"…I'll be over there as soon as I can. I'll be at the coffee shop at the end of the street by the middle school, got it? Oh, God damn, Stan…you're just having an awful semester, aren't you?"

"Thank you, Shelley," he said, but she'd already hung up.


	20. Kids

_I'm a completely different person than when I started this, as I'm a completely different person than a mere three months ago, but that's life._

_Naturally, that bleeds out into writing._

_This story is _nothing_ like it was before. I don't know if that's a good thing or a bad thing, but that's how it is. Sorry to the people who liked it as it was. I just kept adding in more and more characters and it just kept becoming about everyone not really knowing who they are and what they want and who they want. I think the only stable character in this is freakin' Kenny. And he doesn't really…do much. He'll be in the chapter after the next one, though. And Craig will start rising a bit more out of the woodwork like he has been. He'll be a welcome neutrality, I suppose. _

_In short, I really just want to finish this off so I can move on to bigger and (way) better things. It's obvious this isn't a literary masterpiece or anything, especially to me knowing I half ass all of my fanfics, but I'd at least like to think that, quality aside, people still have a mildly enjoyable and boredom-curing read with as little cringing and "What the hell is THIS!?" comments as possible. _

_I've probably already failed at that, but, ha ha, I've never finished chapter fics, and I'd at least like to finish this one, as I have a clear plot line to follow in it. (Or, at least, I have a pretty good idea of how the events will unfold.)_

_In other news, I was a fan of Michael Jackson. I'd been a fan since watching his performance in _The Wiz_. (Sure, I'd heard all of the songs like Thriller and Bad and Black or White, but it wasn't until watching that movie that I found utmost respect for him as a human being, as debatable as that is, I know, and his direct influence on the music we have today.)_

_His song "Childhood" is a fitting title for this chapter, but I view the song as very personal to him, so this chapter remains titled as "Kids," by MGMT. I strongly recommend listening to "Childhood"…but I don't suggest listening to "Kids." MGMT is an acquired taste, and even I can't stand them that well.

* * *

_

"**Kids"**_  
Chapter Twenty_

––––Shelley–––

_Life with headgear sucked major ass. She'd done it for medical reasons, mainly, but now she just couldn't find it in her to give a damn anymore. They hurt like _hell_._

_Life without Skyler sucked major ass, too. He'd broken up with her because she wouldn't give herself up, and she'd gotten Cartman to help her extract revenge in the best way possible – thrashing his guitar, the only thing he ever really loved. Still, it hurt like a bitch now that he was gone. She wanted to just flip a switch and shut everything down, just stop caring about everything._

_Living in South Park never failed to make her life shitty, in one way or another, but through it all, next to all of the people she absolutely hated, next to everyone she wanted to leave her alone after everything had come to pass, there was Kevin. He was her constant. _

_And so, they grew closer and shared secrets, shared the things she never would have told the friends she used to have before she just started being angry all the time. Not about her grandfather's death wish, as funny as it was disturbing; not about her parents almost getting a divorce and then getting back together again, which broke something that didn't ever seem to really fix. No, there was something in her that had been more deeply affected by it than she thought possible. The vase had been shattered and put back together, but the cracks were still visible. Even her interest in a fucking band, which she had enjoyed by herself, now spread like wildfire and helped her find herself away from the pack._

_She bottled everything up, and he helped her let it out. He fostered her rage willingly, gave her a way to vent. In a sense, he was way better than any of her gal pals. _

_Her friends began to see her change, but it wasn't really a change, was it? She was just being herself after what felt like forever bottling everything she felt inside. _

_She was finally free._

–––

"_Who am I, really, Kev?" Shelley muttered, slumped against the tree she always went to to think. He'd begun to join her over the course of their friendship, and she couldn't be more thrilled. It helped to talk to someone about things like this. She ran a hand through her hair, frizzed from the cold, and stared up at the treetops._

_Kevin was staring down the hill at a squirrel making a rare appearance this time of the year. "I can't really say, Shell. You are who you are. There's no sense in changing that, is it?"_

"_Yeah, but _who_ am I?"_

"_I already answered that, didn't I? You're _you_, Shelley. Who am _I_? I'm me. I can only ever _be_ me. And you can only ever be _you_. Everyone figures it out one day. I think you have to grow up to figure it out."_

"_Yeah, but do any of the grown-ups know who they are? Does my dad know who he is? Does my mom? I don't even think Skyler knew who he was, and he was pretty old."_

"_Ah, come on. Don't get caught up on that jackass again. I know what'll make you feel better…" he sang, a cheerful inflection at the very end. Kevin turned and gave her a goofy little grin. "'The Number of the Beast'_ _is by far the best song Iron Maiden ever wrote."_

_Shelley scoffed, leaning towards him and giving him a light thwack over the head. "Oh that's bullshit, Kevin!! 'The Number of the Beast' can't _compare_ to 'The Trooper!' 'The Trooper's' their most popular for a _reason_!"_

"_No, it's only good _because_ it's their most popular song. 'The Number of the Beast' is the best by _far_. Assuming 'The Trooper's' popular because it's good is just stupid. Look at quality, Shell, not quantity."_

"_Oh?" Shelley sneered at him. "You dirty liar! You said your favorite song was 'Run to the Hills!' I know you're just doing this to change the subject, you ass!"_

_Kevin snorted, scratching his greasy brown hair. "Well, you're not sad anymore, are you?"_

"_Well…er…yeah," she admitted, "but I'm not happy either."_

_Despite the irritation in her voice, she managed to laugh._

"_Yeah you _are_! You're _laughing_, Shelley!" Kevin laughed, looking proud of himself._

"_Only at how stupid you are! There's no reason to be _pleased_ with yourself!" _

_Shelley sighed and looked away, over at the imperfections the squirrel had left in the snow. Her face fell, and she shrugged. "You know, you're probably one of the only people I can put up with longer than ten minutes, Kevin. The girls at school are starting to be pissed at me because of how I've been acting, and it's really… I don't know. It makes me feel weird. Like I'm…"_

"_Like you're betraying them?"_

_She snorted. "Oh, _hell_ no. I can't betray people I don't give a shit about, can I? No, I feel like I'm better off, even though I've only got you now. Maybe that's better, you know? Maybe it's _okay_ to have just _one_ friend. Maybe it's _okay_ to not want to talk to anybody else…"_

_Kevin stared at her for a long moment before his ears turned red and he looked at the snow. "You know, Shelley, I'm starting to feel the same way."_

"_Yeah, but you've got your guy friends, Kevin," she dismissed, waving at him with her hand. "You probably don't know what I'm talking about."_

"_Oh yeah. I know what you're talking about. I feel like I can tell you everything, Shelley. With the guys I only just talk about the superficial stuff, like tits and…well, tits, mainly. Sports, too, but I don't really play sports much. Well, tits and sports _and _music, but I never really put anything else out there. It's almost like I get to talk about the state of the world and philosophical stuff when I hang out with you." He shrugged. "I like it."_

"_Well, shit, Kevin. _You're_ a pussy, aren't you?" Shelley smirked, and Kevin just rolled his eyes at her._

"_Shelley, I'm being serious. Guys aren't _really _superficial or anything. And it's not like _all _we want is sex… We're just at that age, you know? And I mean…it's not like we don't talk about deep stuff. I just…never really put forth anything into the conversation."_

_Shelley sighed. "My mom says boys always grow but they never mature."_

"_Well… Huh, I've really got nothing to say to that. Just know not all guys are Skyler, Shell. Some of us are pretty sweet deep down." To prove his point, he gave a winning grin he hoped would put her mind at ease. Instead, she moved off of Skyler and onto how often Kevin brushed his teeth._

_Shelley tried to force herself to smile, but instead she reached into her pocket and pulled out a roll of breath mints. She'd learned to carry them around when Kevin was around. It wasn't even rude anymore. "Here," she said, handing him three. "_Now_ you're a sweet guy, Kev. And your breath smells nice now, too."_

_Kevin took them, popped them in his mouth and scowled at her. "Thanks, Shelley. Right when I was trying to impress you. You sure know how to kill the mood." He stood up, wiping the snow from his rear, and reached out for her hand._

_She, in turn, grabbed it and used him to help herself up. She then, too, wiped off her rear and shrugged. "What mood, Kev? You're like the brother I wish I had. Better than the turd I have at home."_

_He winced visibly, slapping his forehead. "Ouch, Shell! Way to take a low blow to my ego! I'd say I'm a pretty charming, attractive guy, wouldn't you?"_

_Shelley grinned as they started down the hill. "Maybe. If there's ever a Trailer Trash Yearly pin-up calendar, I'll be sure to sign you up."_

_Kevin perked up. "Oooh! I think my mom gets that every year to hang in the bathroom!"_

_They both burst out laughing, and Shelley slapped her thigh. "Totally! Now you can get a pin-up of you and hold up a sign that says, 'Hey Mom!'!! Ha ha ahahaha ha!!"_

_They wandered to the train tracks and started walking along them. Wedged in the stones after the fiftieth plank they passed, a flash of red and yellow caught Kevin's eye. He bent down, brushing the snow away to find a little figurine of the Flash. Standing straight again, he held it out to her. "Huh. Look at this, Shell. It's the Flash!"_

"_Oh God, don't tell me _you_ like superheroes, too?"_

"_Spandex is for fags, Shell. But, if _you_ like super heroes, I can be the Flash for you!" He gave her a wicked smirk and Shelley fought back a giggle. He took that to mean 'Okay' and puffed out his chest. "Well, Shelley Marsh, it looks like another crisis is diverted."_

_He gasped and cupped a hand to his ear, listening in the distance. "What's that!? South Park's being attacked by Mecha-Streisand again!? I'm on it!!" He broke out into a run…only to slow to a stop nearly ten feet away, panting heavily. Going without well-nourishing food did that to a person._

"_Kevin??" Shelley laughed and jogged over, placing a hand on his shoulder. "You okay?"_

_He looked up at her and smiled, saying between breaths, "Yeah…but I think…my family's crystal meth lab is…starting to take its toll…on my lungs…"_

_She rolled her eyes and gave him a gentle shove again. "Oh, you liar. Your family doesn't make crystal meth!!"_

_Kevin wheezed and stood up straighter to give her a serious look. "Well…is…isn't using us to smuggle it just as bad?"_

_Shelley's mouth opened, and she stuttered. "Wh…What? Holy fuck, Kevin… Do they seriously–"_

_He grinned. "Fooled you, Shelley! Ha ha!!"_

_She huffed and shoved him, more firmly, and smacked him in the back. "Kevin! What the hell!! Seriously, don't scare me like that!! That was __not__ funny, you jerk!!"_

"_Awww, come on, Shell! It was just a joke!!" He laughed heartily, holding his arms out to show her he was fine. "Seriously, Shell. It was a joke, alright?"_

"_Yeah, but I thought you were serious!" She glared and started walking away in a huff. "It wasn't funny at all!"_

_Walking after her, Kevin began nudging her whenever the moment was open. "Come on, Shelley, it was a joke. Why can't girls take jokes like this?? I mean, it was… I was _kidding_!!"_

_She shot him a dirty look and stomped her foot on the ground, putting a hand on her now-developing hip. "Well I didn't think it was funny, Kevin! You had me worried! I like you, okay?? And I don't want you to get hurt! You're my best friend!"_

_Kevin's eyes widened. "Really? You mean that?"_

"_Yes! Of course I mean that! I wouldn't be putting up with you if I didn't mean every word I said."_

_Kevin's cheeks warmed and he scratched his greasy hair again. "Oh…well…if…if that's the case… I'm sorry, Shelley. Forgive me?" She sighed and gave him a strained look, blue eyes into turquoise, and he gave her another one of his goofy grins. "I'll throw in the Flash for free…"_

_She sighed and held out her hand, looking away. "Deal. But don't ever do it again."_

_The Flash came to sit in her hand, as he soon came to live in her home, on her bedroom's bedside table. Kevin put his hands behind his head and started walking down the tracks all over again. When the Flash made himself comfy in Shelley's pocket, she started after her best friend. _

"_You know, a bunch of the girls at school think we're going out," Kevin remarked casually._

"_Let them think that," Shelley replied in aggravation. "I don't _care_, Kevin. Shit."_

–––––––––––––––––––

Nicholas took another sip of his soup, staring at her. "Are you going to keep twirling that little action figure around, or are you going to say something?" His eyebrows furrowed, and he sniffed a little. That had been in her room before, too. Why did she bring it to school all of a sudden?

"You know, I used to sit by a big tree near the train tracks and just _think_. When me and Kevin were friends, he used to sit and _help_ me think…" Shelley mumbled, flipping the hair from her eyes with her free hand – she'd teased it a bit and her bangs kept falling in front of her face.

Nicholas put his spoon down and gave her an aggravated look. "What? Is that supposed to make me jealous or something?"

"No," Shelley sighed, glancing at him briefly before looking back at the Flash. "I just…stopped doing a lot of thinking after me and Kevin stopped being friends. I wish I'd done more thinking now that so much time has passed…"

The Goth sighed in aggravation and pushed his soup forward, letting his arms rest on the table. "So…what are you thinking about? Are you thinking about Kevin?"

"No." Her eyebrows knitted together and her throat went dry. It felt scratchy as she spoke. "I just… Well, ever since I've met Kevin, all I've done is be myself. He helped me be myself…but…now I just feel fake. Hasn't that ever happened to you?" She looked up at him, blinking. "Have you ever felt that you tried to be yourself so much that you lost sight of who you really were and what you really cared about? Even about what was most important of all?"

For a long time they sat there in complete silence before Nicholas took in a deep breath and swallowed. "…No," he said quietly, looking back at his hands. "But…I……think I know someone who has…"

"Given the opportunity, you'd choose her over me, wouldn't you?"

Nicholas soaked in the question and chuckled uncomfortably. "…Ah. You… Heh. You mean _Henrietta_, right?"

"…You know I do."

After a while of staring at the action figure twirl around slowly, Nicholas chuckled again and shrugged. "Well, Henrietta's not my girlfriend, is she?"

"What is it about me that you like?" The second the words were out of her throat, the Flash came to a stop and tumbled onto his back on the table top.

"Shit, who the fuck is calling me?" she muttered. She reached into the back pocket of her jeans and pulled her cell phone out. Pushing a button on the side, she sent the call to the voice mail recording. With a huff, she put it back in her back pocket.

"Who was it?" Nicholas stared at her curiously, as if expecting her to say Henrietta had called.

"Does it matter? They called me during school, damn it." She huffed and glanced across the cafeteria to the "less than outcast" table, where Kevin sat goofing off with his friends. Again, they were acting like miniature gladiators were making war on top of their food. It looked like a hell of a lot more fun than sitting here with the brick wall. "Now, about that ques–"

"I need a smoke. You mind?" Nicholas said tonelessly, his eyes smoldering.

Shelley rolled her eyes and forced a smile onto her lips. "_Just_ a second." She reached into her pocket, got her phone and jabbed whoever had the nerve to call her to the voice mail message again. "Now that _that's_ taken care of, why _don't_ we go have a smoke? We need to talk."

"People are going to think we're going off to go make out," he said.

"You know what?" she replied curtly. "I could care less right now. They're not my friends; they're not even people I want to talk to. I don't give a damn what they'll think. They're all just a bunch of fuckers trying to find something interesting to gossip about, anyway."

Nicholas smiled, picking up his spoon and pointing it at her casually. "You know, I really like it when you talk like that. It's my favorite thing about you."

"Yeah, but I'm sure it's not _really_ me you see when I talk like that." She stood up with her plate and went to the trash to throw her half-eaten food away.

Nicholas blinked, going over and dumping the rest of his soup in the trash can and closing his thermos back up. Dropping his Styrofoam bowl and plastic spoon in the trash, he looked over at her and narrowed his eyes. "Of course it is."

Shelley sighed and glanced over at Kevin's table again. He was staring at them. Her phone began to vibrate again, and she whipped her phone out and punched the button viciously. "Damn it. They won't stop calling. Let's just _go_."

They started down the hallway, and Kevin eyed one of his friends conspicuously, nodding his head just as obviously. His friend – a six-foot-tall freshman named Aaron – nodded back and jogged off to go keep an eye on them…er…Nicholas, of course. To see if he was hiding anything…like Shelley wanted Kevin to make sure of. Yeah.

Halfway to the door to the back of the school, Nicholas reached over and pinned her against the wall. "Shelley, you mind if I kiss you?"

She sighed and looked away, clutching the Flash extra tight. "Actually, yeah. I _do_. I really just want a smoke right now. Now get off of me so we can have our fix."

Nicholas narrowed his eyes. "Well…this _was_ my fix. I just wanted to make out with you."

"You know what, Nicholas?" She gave him a simmering look. "You can take your fix and– Mother fucker!!" Shelley shouted, loud enough to surely be heard in the cafeteria, and even on the other side of the school.

His eyes widened, and he snarled out an angry, "_What_ did you just call me?"

She shoved him off of her, reaching into her pocket and finally looking at whoever the hell was still calling. Upon seeing Stan's name, she grumbled and flipped it open a bit more destructively than she would have liked. This was the second phone in a year, and she hoped it would remain to be the first of next year.

"Why the hell are you calling me, turd?" she hissed. "I'm in school, and you're bothering me. _Maybe_ I was in a class. Did you ever think of that?"

"Shelley," he groaned hoarsely over the phone. He sounded almost like he was about to cry. "I…I need you to pick me up…"

Oh, like hell he'd use alligator tears on _her_.

"What?" she snapped. "No! I'm not helping you skip school. I've already missed enough."

"Shelley, please…" he continued, his voice growing more and more desperate. "I…the list…everyone knows, Shelley. I accidentally blurted it out at lunch and… Everyone knows I really wrote that list. Please, I don't… I just…I want to go _home_…"

The realization hit her like a ton of bricks. No wonder he was so upset…he'd just revealed _everything_.

"Wait. They know you're…that you're–"

"Yes! Please come pick me up!! There's no way I can face my next class! Please!!"

Shelley placed her hand over the phone and eyed her boyfriend. "I'm sure Henrietta would just _love_ to know you're behind something like this, wouldn't she?" she said, eager for a guilty response. She was so sick and tired of this _bullshit_. Sure she didn't care, but now that she was starting to care a _little_, she was just fucking _tired_ of this. She wanted the _truth_; she wanted an _escape_ from all of these _questions_ filling her head to the brim!

His eyes widened, sincerely. "Wait, what? What are you talking about? Who's calling you?" Again, he almost looked as if he expected her to have started putting Henrietta on speed dial.

She glowered at him. "As if it isn't obvious, prick."

"What?" he snapped, angry again.

Shelley uncovered her hand from the phone and huffed.

"…I'll be over there as soon as I can. I'll be at the coffee shop at the end of the street by the middle school, got it? Oh, God damn, Stan…you're just having an awful semester." Her heart squeezed painfully, and she hung up the phone before getting emotional in front of her brother.

She was quiet for a moment, and Nicholas tapped his foot on the floor impatiently. "Well, aren't you going to leave?"

Shelley cleared her throat and looked at him, suddenly overwhelmed with a sort of hatred toward him she couldn't describe coupled with a strange sense of hopelessness. Her voice cracked when she took a deep breath and muttered, "Does it _really_ matter to you?" Her throat was dry all over again. "…If I were to leave _right_ _now_, would you really give a shit? Would you even wonder where I was going or if I was okay?"

For a while he just stood there in stunned silence before he grimaced. "…I…think you know the answer to that question," he said thickly.

"Good, then I'm glad we're clear on something." She coughed and steadied herself before looking over at the corner and nodding her head. "Tell Kevin he has my permission to beat the fuck out of my ex, will you?"

Hurried footsteps alerted Nicholas to the presence of someone watching them, and he looked back at her, flabbergasted. "You…you _bitch_. You've been having people _watching_ me? Why!?"

She laughed through a shaky voice and patted him on the shoulder in a mock-loving gesture.

"I think you know the answer to that question, turd," she said.

He laughed, high and manically; he couldn't believe what he was hearing! "You can't break up with _me_!" he snapped, voice heavy with laughter. "_I'm_ breaking up with _you_ for having people watch me! How does _that_ feel, bitch??"

Kevin turned the corner then, looking pleased with himself, and Shelley gave the Goth the finger. "You know what, Nicholas? It feels pretty damn _great_. Now do yourself a favor and _fuck off_."

She hurried down the steps and out to her car, not even pausing to see his reaction. She had a pretty good idea she knew what'd it be, too – a brief moment of self-pitied anger followed by a knock to his jaw that would send him clattering to the floor, courtesy of Mr. Trailer Trash Yearly himself. Suddenly finding it a bit hard to see, she slumped into her car, threw her bags in the back, and gave herself a moment to get a grip.

Seconds later, the passenger door opened and Kevin slid in, shutting it. She looked over at him. Her jaw dropped. "W-W-What are you doing here? I…I said you could beat the fuck out of that faggy Goth sleaze bag!"

Kevin blinked. "Oh? Shorty just said you'd broken up with the Goth and I came running after you… Huh. I'll have to keep that in mind for when I have some time to kill." He smiled and put his seat belt on, rolling down the window. "Now, where are we going?"

"To pick up Stan from school. Apparently he let his orientation slip during lunch. And you're _not_ coming along, Kevin."

"Oh, I _am_. You may not realize it, Shelley, but you've had tears streaming down your face since I turned the corner in the school." He smiled to himself and set the Flash on the dashboard. "And you dropped this when you hurried out. You have a nasty habit of forgetting your things."

She wiped at her eyes and smiled a bit easier. "…I'll try to work on that."

"Want me to drive? You're crying too hard to see."

"If you crash my baby, I will murder you."

"I don't know how I can crash something that's not much to look at anyway, but I'll still haunt you if you kill me," he said cheerfully as he opened the door and stepped out to change places. "You'll never be able to get rid of me, Shell. I'm always going to be here, bothering you."

"Coffee shop. The one down the street from the middle school," she mumbled, wiping at her eyes some more.

"…You don't want to talk about it, I take it…"

"No, now hurry the hell up, Kevin. My little brother needs me."

––––––––Stan–––––––

"_Hurry up, Stan! Craig and Clyde are catching up!"_

_Stan continued to run, up to the top of the hill, darting past a few trees, down the hill, past a few trees, up another hill, past, down, up, past, down, down, down, down aaaaaand stomp! He practically fell into the grass, entertaining the notion to just stay there and sleep for the rest of his life. _

_Kyle, in the grass beside him, sat up and looked around. There were people around them now, cheering, and he looked past to see Clyde and Craig, legs tied together, groaning and slowing to a stop just inches behind the finish line. _

"_Hey, hey Stan!" he shouted. "We won, Stan!"_

_Stan looked up from the grass, half-expecting Wendy to come down from the heavens and land in his lap, giving him a big victory kiss. "We won!? Holy shit, dude! I thought Clyde and Craig would beat us for sure!!"_

_Clyde and Craig collapsed into a collective heap behind them, and Craig merely looked over at them wearily. Breathlessly, he muttered a congratulatory swear and flipped Stan and Kyle off. Clyde, not to be outdone, sat there in the grass and did what he did best – a sarcastic whine and mock bawling of his eyes to fill the not-so awkward and not-so silent silence. _

_Kyle stumbled to his feet, causing Stan's leg to twist awkwardly. Stan stood to remedy that and nearly fell over all over again, right into Kyle. He saw Wendy in the crowd, looking at him like he was the fastest, most sexiest guy alive, and he felt his chest swell with pride. _

"_Awwww, shit, you gahs!! We got in last place! Thanks a _lot_, Kinny!!" Cartman swore as he ran up past the last pair to cross the finish line, dragging a now-dead Kenny behind with him. _

"_Oh my God, Cartman!! You _killed_ Kenny!!" Stan shouted, his eyes resting in mock-horror at their now very dead, very best immortal friend. "Again," he added lamely. _

"_You __bastard__!" Kyle finished, taking a moment to stare at a few rats scurrying out of the woodwork._

_Cartman just walked over, drag-drag-dragging Kenny's corpse, now complete with a few rat passengers, along with him. "Now yew listen nyah. If Kinny didn't want to die, he should have _kept up with me, gadammit_!!!" he shouted, looking over at their ex-friend like he were ready to pummel Kenny's body into an indiscernible pile of flesh and blood and bones. _

_Kyle glared at him angrily. "Yeah, but there wasn't much of a pace to catch up with, was there, fatass!?"_

_Stan burst out laughing, and Cartman just grumbled to himself when the other runners all began to laugh at him as well. _

_Through the crowd, Mr. and Mrs. Broflovski were pushing their way to the clearing where their son was, eager to congratulate him on a job well done. Kyle's face immediately softened, and he looked over at them with absolute innocence etched in his face._

"_Hi, Mom! Hi, Dad! We won! Did you see that?? Stan and I won!!"_

"_Oh, Kyle, I'm so proud of you, bubbe!!" his mother cried, her arms up in the air excitedly. Ike stood next to her, looking just as excited and just as eager to wander off into trouble somewhere._

"_Good job, Kyle! And Stan, you were good, too!! You boys did great out there!" his father said, absolute euphoria written across his face, as if he'd been watching something so much greater than a simple three-legged race at the annual summer picnic._

_Kyle and Stan looked at each other, grinning and giving each other high fives._

"_Now, boys. You'll get the prize money, but I want to take a picture, first. Make it look natural, okay? Over by that tree." He pointed to the tree he wanted, and they both stumbled somewhat wearily to the designated tree, itching to untie the tie around their ankles removed and itching to itch their irritated ankles immediately afterward._

"_How are we gonna make it look natural, dude? Should we smile or what?"_

_Stan shrugged, arm around his best friend's shoulder to make it a bit easier to walk. "I guess we should laugh, dude. …Dude! We could quickly mutter something funny to each other before they snap the picture or something!"_

"_Oh, okay! Should I make it random or what?"_

"_Make it random, so I won't expect it. That way it'll be so ridiculous I'll burst out laughing."_

"_Right, dude," Kyle said._

_They both went and stood against a tree, leaning against each other because it was getting so tiring to stand. Kyle put his arm over Stan's as well, groaning wearily._

_His father held his hand up, ready with the camera._

"_Say cheese, boys!"_

_The boys both forced a few smiles on their faces and it was at _that _moment that they both caught a whiff of the other's body odor._

"_Ohhhh, _dude_!! Your pits _reek_!" they both gagged in unison, before promptly laughing out loud._

_Click._

–––––––––––––––

Stan sat there on the curb in front of the coffee shop, feeling completely hopeless. He'd just about run all out of misty-eyed tears, and he was about ready to get started on groaning in anguish.

Never again would he be able to hang out with Kyle. Hell, he wouldn't even be able to hang out with _anyone_, now! Who would _actually_ hang out with him now that he was _gay_? Rumors would circulate, people would talk, and pretty soon he'd be reduced to some pervert who jacked off to all of the guys in the locker room.

For the rest of his life, he'd be Stan Marsh, the Fag.

Shelley's off-white piece of shit car went rocketing into the curb, stopping sharply as something ground into the concrete with a metallic crunch. Someone inside shouted something offensive, and another voice – a _boy's_ voice – wailed out an apology.

Stan looked up to see his sister…in the passenger seat. In the driver's seat was Kenny's older brother. He winced and put his head in his hands. "Shiiiiiiit. Shit, shit, SHIT!"

Kevin stumbled out of the car to assess the damages, but Stan was far past the point of concern. When Shelley stumbled out of the car and stormed over to see her license plate bent at an odd angle and a screw still rattling to a stop on the sidewalk, he stood up and stomped over to her.

"Shelley, why is _Kevin_ here?? I mean, are you planning on telling everyone in _high_ school, too?? I was hoping I'd have at least a month there before everyone stopped talking to me, and you _ruined_ it!!"

Shelley gave Kevin a hard shove for good measure before she turned to her brother. "Stan, I needed someone to talk to about that list and how to deal, and Kevin was the _only_ asshole I could trust." She glared over at Kevin's somewhat proud expression. "Though if he goes through life like he drives my car, that trust might break."

She turned back to her brother. "Stan, Kevin's the _only_ other one who knows, I swear."

"Well, yeah, but–"

"Just get in the car. We'll talk about this when we get home."

"But, Shelley–"

"Listen to your mother, Stan," Kevin said jokingly.

Shelley shot him a piercing glare and made a motion like she very much wanted to slam his face into the hood of her car. "Kevin, you aren't _helping_. I know you joke around to break tension, but shut the fuck up." For the first time since that spat with Kyle, she grabbed her brother's arm, only this time it was more gentle. "Stan, get in the car before you come out in front of everyone in the coffee shop." She sucked in a breath and muttered what she'd sworn she'd never say to her brother, _ever_.

"_Please_. Do this for _me_."

Stan wiped at his eyes and wandered over to the back of the car. Kevin slid into the passenger seat, and Shelley kicked the license plate back to normal and deposited the screw in her jeans pocket before getting in and starting the car.

She sighed and looked at her passengers, the look on her face clearly showing her patience was wearing thin and any inconveniences would be dealt with harshly. "You both better be buckled in by the time I count to three. One. Two–"

"Done," both boys said in unison with two ceremonious clicks and a nervous laugh on Kevin's end.

Taking a deep breath, she pulled out and started down the street.

"Stan," she started, her voice shaky. "You know I'm not one to get all sappy in front of anyone…and you know I'm not one to be _nice_, but if there is _anything_ you ever need from me…just ask, okay? I mean…are you…" She sighed and sucked in a breath. "A-Are you hungry? We can… go to Burger World and I can order your favorite…"

"No, Shelley," he replied tiredly. "I'm fine."

Her vision became cloudy again, and she clenched the steering wheel tighter as she pulled over to the side of the road. "But Stan," she murmured, "you're _not_ fine. You called me up and sounded almost like you were going to cry, and everyone at school knows you wrote that list…and…and, well…"

"…I know," he whispered, looking down at his knees. He hadn't even bothered to bring his back pack with him, but that was hardly any concern of his.

Shelley was silent for a while, trembling just slightly, and Kevin frowned. "Shell, do you mind if I drive the rest of the way?"

She nodded her head and put on the parking break, and she took off her seat belt to crawl into the back next to her brother. Kevin shifted into the driver's seat and, with a jerky start, picked up where she'd left off. She smoothed down her hair, trying to smooth it down over her face as she sat there beside him, hands going to her knees to grip at the denim.

Kevin drove in utter silence, and soon the sounds of the road and the wind drowned out everything in a blanket of white noise. A sniff broke the silence, and Stan looked over to see his sister's hand rise to her face.

He merely blinked, stunned. Kyle had told him his sister had cried, but he'd _never_ witnessed it, not in the entirety of having been her sibling. "Sh…Shelley," he started. "Why are… Are you _crying_?"

His sister nodded her head and a small whine came from her lips. "Y…Yes," she murmured. "B-Because all of this is _my_ fault… If I hadn't…If I hadn't invited him over… If I hadn't told him about that picture…" She sucked in a shaky breath and sniffed the snot back up, wiping at the sticky tears blotting her cheeks.

"I let him into our _house_," she whispered, her voice tinted with just as much anger as sorrow.

His jaw clenched. He knew _exactly_ who she was talking about. The same prick who'd been trying to get as much dirt on him as possible for the past five years. The same prick Henrietta had been bitching about for the past year.

"Shelley," he hissed, tight-lipped. "You may have been the one stupid enough to have told him about that picture, but he's the prick that searched that list out. Don't blame yourself for that, Shelley. Blame that God damn…" He trailed off into a flurry of angry curses, and put his head in his hands.

After a while, he took a deep breath. His voice had lost its spark. "But none of that _matters_ anymore… What's done is done… I mean…look at what I have to look _forward_ to! I have shit. No friends, no peace of mind, no privacy. Not a damn thing. I can't let Mom or Dad find out, but I also can't count on the other kids' parents not finding out and telling ours. So what if I like Kyle? That's over. He hangs out with Stan the Fag, he instantly becomes marked as gay, too. Just because he associated me after knowing how I fucking feel about him. There's no way he's going to hang out with me now. All of my old friends now hate me, and my chances of making new ones are gone, too. For the rest of my life, I will be seen as Stan the Fag."

Kevin finally glanced back at him. "I just see Stan."

Stan's throat dried and he swallowed the lump in his throat. That was something he'd needed to hear. He shook his head and thickly said, "…I know _you_ do, b-but the other kids–"

"Being gay doesn't define you as a person," Shelley said. She looked over at him, clearing her throat. "In an entire school filled with kids…there's got to be at least one who'll look past all of that and just see you for _who_ you are. You can only ever be _you_."

There was a loud bump from the front of the car, and the right side of the car seemed to go up on a boot-sized bump of a hill. Kevin snorted and looked out his rear view mirror. "You know, Stan. This day could be a _lot_ worse."

Stan looked up at him, desperate for some comforting words. "Yeah, like how?"

"Well…you could've been that cat I just ran over."

The Marsh siblings both looked out the back window to see a crumpled heap of a Balinese lying in the road. Shelley pinched the bridge of her nose in time with her brother.

She seethed and turned back to the front. "Pull over, Kevin. That was the _second_ cat you've hit since you got behind the wheel."

Stan cursed. "Ah, shit, dude. That was the Creevers' cat…"

"What!?" Shelley looked back to double-check before looking back at Kevin. "Kevin," she hissed. "You are _so_ washing the remains off my tires!! They'll be throwing a bitchfit for months!!"

A loud, metallic grind and a sudden uphill incline alerted them to an addition of a mailbox in Kevin's list of victims.

"Oh, like _hell_ I'm getting blamed for _that_!!" Shelley cried as Kevin muttered a swear under his breath.

"So-rry! I didn't see it, I _swear_, Shell! It's the mailbox's fault for being in the middle of the road, anyway!"

"You're halfway on the _sidewalk_, you dumbass!"

Amidst their argument,

––––––––Henrietta––––––––

"_Don't break the stage when you fall," an obnoxiously melodic voice quipped as she passed by them. _

"_Don't break their eyes either, when you go out in that leotard, fatass," one of the girl's friends giggled._

_The group of four erupted into laughter as she walked by, eager to get out of her leotard and out of ballet._

_Third grade. Her mother suggested ballet as a _great_ way to let her creativity out in something beautiful, something everyone could watch and praise her for. Just to humor her mother, she looked into it. She joined. _

_She told herself it didn't sting every time someone made fun of her weight. She told herself it didn't hurt, like a mantra singing in her head._

_But it _did_._

_It hurt a _lot_._

_She hadn't known Thorne and Peter then. It had only been Nicholas, her only friend she'd been able to talk to. With his absolute, no-one-gets-in stand-offishness, she took it upon herself to see if she could try. And, to her surprise, she _did_. The first time she spoke to him, it sparked an awkward kinship between them._

"_How do you manage to not care what anyone says about you?"_

"_What's it to you?"_

"_I'm interested. I've seen you around."_

"_Nice shirt, conformist. Get it at the GAP?"_

"_Nice nose, dick. Get it from that troll of a mother of yours?"_

_Weeks later, he stopped ignoring her when she'd casually say hello to him. He started chatting to her normally. Shortly after that, they started talking rather than chatting. They got beneath the surface:_

"_How do you do it?"_

"_Do what?"_

"_Stop caring what people say."_

"_You never stop caring. They make a quip about my nose, I still care. It's just a matter of how I look at it now. Yeah, I care what they say. But does it _matter_ what they think? Does _anything_ matter?"_

"_Maybe it does. You don't know that."_

"_I don't care about _maybe_. When it comes right down to it, maybe is just another word for hope. Hope is useless. There's no sense in hoping."_

_She took up smoking. It calmed her down, helped her relax. She started having an interest in drinking coffee. Strong black coffee; she gradually weaned herself off of milk and sugar. She stopped caring what she wore, she stopped caring how her hair looked. She'd go to school with bed-hair and the clothes at the back of her closet, the things that were too hideous to wear. Nothing was too hideous to wear, not anymore._

_And then, a ballet recital._

"_My dad's not coming," she muttered to him the day before "her big night". She took a drag from her cigarette. "He said he would, but he won't. He never does what he says he will. He just drinks himself to sleep on the couch. He's not coming."_

"_Lame," Nicholas remarked. "He sounds just like my _mom_."_

_She frowned and looked back at the ground. "I just wish he cared, you know? But he doesn't. If he did, he'd make time for me."_

_Nicholas remained silent, simply nodding his head, as she took another drag._

"_I just want someone who didn't put me up to this there for me. Is that so much to ask for? The Britney wannabes in my ballet class make freaking _stomping_ sounds and pretend there's an earthquake every time I take a single step. Every time I mess up step, they make this big deal about it after they go so far as to fall flat on their face. It fucking _hurts_. All I want is for my Dad to be there for me for _once_, and he can't even do that. Instead he'd rather go drink with his buddies down at the bar._

"…_I keep waiting to stop caring," she murmured, "but it never happens. I still care."_

_Nicholas finally spoke up, staring right at her. "Didn't I tell you already? You never stop _caring_. You just start to realize it doesn't _matter_." He sighed, rolling his eyes at the sky. "…_Look_… …You need to meet my friends."_

_She looked at him, just slightly hurt that she didn't seem to count. "You have_ more_ friends?"_

"_Thorne and Peter. I've known Thorne since first grade, Peter for about five months."_

"_Well, _that's_ only _one_ month longer than you've known me. Do I not count yet or something?"_

"_Mhn." Nicholas took another drag from his cigarette but didn't answer her question._

_After a brief moment, he looked over at her, his face expressionless. "Recital's going to be at the school, right?"_

"_Yeah, _obviously_. Wish it wasn't, though. I hate that place."_

"_Psh. Tell me about it. Wish I could burn the building down."_

_And then, like that, it was opening night – the night she would never forget as long as she lived. The night her dad wouldn't show up, the night her mom would embarrass her by clapping loudly for her and remarking to every person who sat next to her that she was her daughter, the night she'd fall flat on her face, the night everyone would laugh at her for being the fat girl with no coordination. _

_Everything would roll smoothly into disaster like that._

_What sounded like a commercial jingle, coming from a little antique piano towards the side of the stage, began to sound – the asinine tune that had haunted her dreams for the past two months, and would surely haunt her for years to come, playing louder and louder – and the dancers began their awkward and jerky _chassé_'s onto the stage._

_She was last. Of course, to make her stick out even more. _

_She stumbled onto the stage awkwardly, turning to try and see her father's face in the crowd, but the lights were too bright. The audience was drowned out, and she could only see the deep blue of the very edge of the back wall. She could make out the figures of people standing by the wall._

_Three shapes – a long, thin one, a medium-sized blob, and a tiny little dot. What appeared to be little tiny streams of smoke curled up over them, and she immediately knew who they were._

_He'd fucking __come__._

_Nicholas, the kid who tried to avoid the school whenever possible, had come. And he'd brought his _friends_, too._

_Her face flushed red and she came to a complete stop, mouth open, unable to _believe_ it. That prick who shut everyone else out: he'd let her in. She was _in_, she was _included_, she was a friend he wanted to support._

_The other girls started back toward her. The closest girl bumped into her and went tumbling backward, knocking the others over like dominoes. The very last girl fell flat on her back and shouted out something in pain, and that infernal tune came to a screeching halt as the audience erupted in whispers and the pianist looked over to see what had gone wrong._

"_Ow, what the hell, fatty??" the girl who'd bumped into her hissed, low enough to not be heard by anyone but her._

"_Serves you right," Henrietta murmured listlessly, as if in a trance._

_And then she walked off the stage._

_She didn't need _this_ shit. _

_She didn't even care when she found out later her father didn't show up, or that they'd wound up grounding her for disrupting the performance and angering all the other girls' parents._

_None of it mattered._

_Not when she had Nicholas._

––––––––––––––––

Lunch ended, and Henrietta wouldn't stop nagging Cartman.

After school, as he stood beside Craig's locker, oblivious to how annoyed Craig was getting with how he wouldn't shut the hell up about the money he now owed him and how crowded it was starting to get around his locker, she stormed over toward him, her friends right behind her.

"Cartman, you said something about a note. I want to see it."

The fatass looked over and sneered. "I already told you, Goth _bitch_, I'm not showing you that fucking note! So nyah!!"

Henrietta glanced back at her friends before looking back at Cartman.

"You'll give me that note or we'll tear you to shreds."

"Why do you gahs want it, anyway!?" Cartman snapped, crossing his arms over his chest.

"To see if I recognize the handwriting."

The two in the back looked at her, and Cartman looked back to Henrietta with a smile on his face. He found that _very_ funny. He tried his hardest not to laugh, covering his mouth with his hands. He regained his composure, laughter still tainting his voice. "You three will tear me to shreds if I don't give you that note…so you can _read_ it," he repeated in disbelief.

"That's right," Henrietta snapped. "You _saw_ me kick Wendy's ass. I'll fuck you up worse than she _ever_ could."

Ah, and that stung even worse. He'd had his ass handed to him by Wendy, and Wendy was now sporting a bob haircut courtesy of Henrietta's friends and her forgetfulness to tie her hair back during the fight. Bebe's face was swollen like a prune – the thought of his looking like that again made him sick to his stomach.

"If you give me something in return, _maybe_ I'll give it to you."

He refused to back down, though. He was Eric Cartman, not a pussy.

Henrietta glanced back at her friends, and they stared back at her, waiting for her to do something. Finally, she looked back at him.

"My bra."

Cartman gagged. "Ew!! _Gross_! That's just _sick_!! I don't have a _warehouse_ to store it in!!"

"_Wendy's_ bra," she wagered, raising an eyebrow at him. "I will give you Wendy's bra if you give me that note."

"You don't _have_ Wendy's bra," Cartman sneered.

An aggravated sigh behind them caused them all to turn around. Craig was holding up a thong casually, as if it were the most normal thing in the world. "God, if I give you Wendy's _thong_ will you all go away? My locker is not a café to hang out in front of."

Cartman's jaw dropped. "How did you–"

"Clyde suggested a panty raid and I had nothing better to do."

Henrietta's curiosity overshadowed her disgust. "Yeah, but why do you have it at–"

"I carry it around with me."

Thorne leaned over to Peter, eyebrows raising in awe. "If Nick screws us over, we can always start hanging out with _this_ guy…" Peter just shuddered.

Craig tossed the thong over Cartman's head, successfully passing them off to Henrietta. She caught them and shook the thong gingerly in the air, quirking a brow at Cartman. "Do we have a deal, Eric?"

After a long two seconds of thinking it over, Cartman muttered something about black assholes and nodded his head. He shuffled over to his locker, pulled out a piece of paper he had stuck to the inside of the door, and gave it to her.

He yanked the thong from her, gathered his things, and headed off to go home and spend some very private time thinking over what a great deal he'd just made.

Over by Craig's locker, Clyde glared at his best friend. "_What_ were you doing with a pair of _Bebe's_ panties?"

"Studying the enemy," was all Craig said.

Henrietta looked at the paper as her friends shuffled over toward her, looking around her arms at the scribbled, angry cursive penned ruthlessly on the sheet.

"Oh, _fuck_," Thorne winced.

"It's _his_ handwriting," Peter whispered.

Henrietta's grip on the paper tightened, and then her face flushed red. Her lips parted, and a single word issued dangerously from her lips–

"_Nicholas_."


End file.
